


The Games We Play

by HateKeepsAManAlive



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HateKeepsAManAlive/pseuds/HateKeepsAManAlive
Summary: The inhabitants of Toccoa Towers seemed to be on a constant roller coaster of crazy, especially when it came to their love lives. Every month George and Frank threw a party for their friends and anyone else that decided to show up, and every month the drama only continues.ORGeorge is in pursuit. Frank is obsessed with penguins. Babe hits a new low. And Web and Lieb fight more to love more.





	1. George

**Author's Note:**

> Based on how I want this series to do, the first chapter is lengthy, (okay, VERY lengthy) but I imagine each chapter will be shorter and shorter since the chapters will overlap a bit before moving forward.

If there was one thing in this world that George Luz loves, it was games.

Games kept things interesting. Kept his friends on their toes. Brought great entertainment to parties - which George and Frank were the best at, thank you very much.

No other apartment in Toccoa Towers - mind you, “tower” is a bit of a stretch. How six apartments in a two story apartment could be called anything but a medium sized hovel is beyond any of them - could compete with the boys in 1B. Not only did they pride themselves on closing out every party in the wee hours of the early morning with at least an average of 91% attendance still in place, but because they were on the first floor, many of their shindigs stretched into the modest backyard. No matter the season. 

Hell, changes in climate also kept things interesting. Every time George thought of the Game of Thrones party this past January, complete with frosted wall and wildlings hidden in the ice of the beer coolers, his chest puffed up with pride. Frank was still complaining that he couldn’t be Jon Snow, but honestly, he made a better Tyrion anyway. 

Now that May had rolled in and the nearby college had emptied for the summer, there wouldn’t even be any worthwhile competition. Many of his friends, including George himself, took some night classes to experience the slow and painful death of obtaining a graduate degree while also working full time. Although he would still have one or two classes over the summer, his schedule became lighter almost instantaneously. And with a lighter schedule, the opportunity for the first party of the summer had come. And with it, the joy of seeing his friends all together, meeting new stragglers, and playing various games to keep it all together.

“Christ, Perco, if ya lock your door this time, you won’t have to worry about Lieb and Webster gettin’ it on on your precious duvet set,” muttered George as he continued to scribble lists down. “Problem solved.” 

Frank rolled his eyes and huffed. “The point is I shouldn’t have to lock my damn door, George. It’s common decency not to have wild animal sex on someone else’s bed!” 

“What about only semi-wild, kind-of boring, and not-worth-a-second-go-around human sex?” 

Frank froze in his task of stacking plastic cups for the party tomorrow night. “If you’re talkin’ about that sleaze you brought home last month, you had better not even joke that you did it in my bed. I’m serious, George.” 

George only grinned and shrugged slightly. “Fine, I won’t joke. Consider me not joking.” 

“Jesus Christ. I need to go wash my sheets again.”

George cackled before counting the guest list again. Although their friends were welcome to bring whomever they’d like, there was one fateful party, back when they were all undergrads and clueless young souls, when they didn’t get enough beer and pizza. Talk about embarrassing. 

After tallying everything up, George grabbed his car keys. “I’m gonna go grab the keg at Johnny’s! Want anything?” 

“Yeah, my goddamn innocence back!” 

With a grin to himself, George made his way out and into town. 

Currahee wasn’t a big town in the northeastern corner of Pennsylvania. The local university took up much of the area, but it supported a variety of businesses, including the local hospital, restaurants, schools, construction companies, and more. Many students stuck around after graduation to gain experience with internships and entry level positions depending on their course of study. It was a quaint, but happy place, with the odd level of crazy, because, come on, it was a college town. 

George pulled into the parking lot of the local beer store, Johnny’s. Johnny himself had recently graduated with an MBA from Toccoa University. But instead of heading towards Philadelphia or New York to wear double breasted suits and scream at computer screens, he bought out a local supply warehouse and created something truly special that became an immediate hit.   

George chucked up his chin when he saw Johnny behind the register with a young kid, whom he’d never seen before. “Hey Martin, what’s new?” 

Johnny looked up and chucked his chin back. “Heya Luz. Your keg is ready. I’ll bring it up in just a minute.” 

George waved him down. “No worries. You still have that ice cream beer? That sweet stuff that rots your teeth?” 

Johnny pointed to the back corner. “The Ben & Jerry’s line? Yeah, over there. I thought you hated that shit.”

“It’s disgusting, but I owe Perco. Something about defiling his personal space.”

“Why am I not surprised. I’ll see ya back up here when you’re ready.” 

George made his way towards the back corner where Johnny put all the weird shit that only a few people in town came in for, but they were loyal customers. Johnny had a knack for making sure whatever someone might want was on the shelves. 

He had finally picked out the chocolate chip cookie dough beer - _bleh_ \- before turning around and almost bumping into a man who stood behind him, glancing at the local bottles available on the opposite shelf. 

“Christ, you must have some super secret ninja talent or somethin’, buddy. I didn’t even hear ya there.” 

The stranger turned to face him and George audibly gulped because _hot damn._  

If George didn’t immediately get lost in the man’s huge, soulful, yet hard eyes, he would have had more time to take in the broad expanse of his shoulders in the leather jacket. The honey tone of his skin - _damn it looked soft_ . The breadth of his hands and - _dear God_ \- the expanse of his fingers. His brain couldn’t handle anything below the belt. 

The stranger didn’t answer, only hummed in acknowledgement that George even existed. He had to blink several times and swallow what little saliva was left in his mouth before he could continue. “Are all ninjas this silent?” 

The man narrowed his eyes as if he couldn't really understand him, and George couldn’t blame him actually. He finally found his footing and grinned. “I guess that’s the mark of a true ninja, amiright?” George grasped the neck of the beer bottle and swung it like a sword. “Stealthiness, silence, and killer bodies in black leather coats.” He shot him a wink. 

The man caught the label of the beer bottle and simply raised an eyebrow. Whether it was because of the crazy flavor or George himself, he had no idea. “Hey, don’t knock it til you try it, man.” He grimaced. “Actually don’t try it. I am one for all things sugar, but this? Hell no. But my roommate is obsessed with it.” He paused. “My non-boyfriend roommate. Because I’m single.” 

Hot Ninja Clad in Leather just continued to give him a look as if he wasn’t sure if he’d ever shut up. George was used to it, but the silence was deafening. The man was either too perturbed by him or too straight to know what to say to George’s strange flirting. He shrugged, giving in. “Have a great night, man.” 

George kept up a face of bravado, but when he turned away, he immediately began internally cursing himself. No one that hot had rolled into town in the five years George had lived here. The chances that the man was gay, single and/or into George were slim to none anyway, but it was worth a shot. 

He walked up to the counter where the kid was standing by himself. When he saw George, he looked terrified at the concept of a customer. George tried to give him a reassuring smile as he placed the godforsaken Perco beer on the glass. “Just this and a half barrel of Mich Ultra.” 

A snort sounded behind him and he turned to find the stranger there, a six pack of probably something overly expensive and way too hoppy in his hand. George raised an eyebrow just as he handed the kid his credit card, but he didn’t look away from Hot Ninja. “95 calories per 12 ounces, buddy. We can’t all look as good as you.” And he turned back to sign the receipt, a smile of triumph on his face that he finally won a hand in his mind, just as Johnny pushed the hand cart up with his purchase. 

But he froze when he heard the man speak, the absolute surprise of his honey-over-gravel voice and his mouth way, way too close to his ear. “Some things are worth the extra indulgence.” 

And George just died then and there. 

* * *

One of the best and worst parts of having Norman Dike as their landlord was that he was never around. His disappearing act made parties go off without a hitch and without a yell from his single apartment in the attic to keep it down. 

But it truly sucked when Dike didn’t show up for weeks to fix the hot water tank. Cold showers were never George’s thing to begin with, but after yesterday’s encounter at Johnny’s, he could really use one, even after an entire 29.5 hours had passed. 

But he tried to push away the delicious stranger from his mind. Tonight was party night, and with it, he became the ultimate host. 

Lieb and Webster had just arrived from upstairs. Lieb snorted as he took in the seemingly hundreds of flowers strewn about the apartment. “I shoulda known April wasn’t really a toga party. Who wears a towel as a toga?” 

George bounced on over to them and placed a flower crown on each of their head’s, which Lieb ripped off immediately. George wasn’t deterred, his crown perfectly pristine in his soft brown hair. “You only assumed it was a toga party last month, you uncreative jackass. It was a shower party! And with April showers…” He waved his hands around towards the huge array of colorful blooms. 

“Bring May flowers,” replied Webster, looking around and nodding, flower crown still in tact. “Cute, Luz. Really. I like it.” 

Lieb snorted again. “You would.” 

Webster narrowed his eyes. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“What do you think I mean, princess? If it’s somethin’ pink and pretty, you fall over yourself to get it.” 

Instead of the fight that George was waiting to erupt, Webster instead pulled Lieb in by the collar of his shirt until they were inches apart. “I can think of something very pink and pretty that I’d love to fall all over right about now.” 

George held his hands up in surrender as they immediately began aggressively kissing. “Nope! I’m out!” He ran over to the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza before the savages - aka Hoobler and Bull - arrived to made it all dozen pies disappear.

“Luz!”

George turned towards the door and grinned. A slew of people just arrived, Bill and Frannie up front and making their way towards him.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “How’s my favorite girl? And where’s your flower crown? Christ, where’s Perco? I need to do everything myself.”

Frannie beamed and kissed him back. “Oh, I saw them. I want to take the time and choose one special for my man.”

Bill snorted. “I ain’t wearing a tiara for ya, doll.”

George blinked innocently. “Of course you can’t wear a flower crown, Bill. How else would anyone know you’re straight?”

Bill shoved him hard but George just giggled with Frannie as the three of them made their way over to the party favors. “Here we are!” He presented the choices proudly. “We’ve got daisies, carnations - I know, tacky but who doesn’t like carnations if we’re being honest? - marigolds, sunflowers, and of course, lavender.”

Bill snorted again. “Why of course lavender?”

Before George could explain, Johnny stepped up and answered for him. “It’s an aphrodisiac. Right, Luz?”

George beamed and pointed to his flower crown that was laden with it. “Right. Who knows if Mr. Right walks through my door tonight?” Frannie laughed with Bill and tucked a piece of lavender through the open button hole of his shirt with a wink.

“Jesus Christ, why is there a padlock on Perco’s door?”

Johnny rolled his eyes at the shout across the room from Lieb before turning to Bill. “You shoulda seen Luz fawning over who he thought was Mr. Right yesterday. Damn painful to watch, lemme tell ya.”

Bill whistled and they all turned to George, whose cheeks pinkened. “What’s his name, George?”

Frannie smacked him on the arm. “Leave him alone. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing him, you beasts.”

Bill shrugged, unconcerned. “Just wonderin’ if I wasted my time talking him up to Joe the other day.”

George brightened and was thankful that yesterday’s mortification was pushed aside. “Joe? Who’s Joe?”

Frannie and Bill exchanged a sly glance. “New guy with the construction company. Had to beg, barter and steal to get him to agree to come tonight, but I got him the other day. Said he was gonna stop by Babe’s place first. You know how that kid is with showin’ off his movie collection.”

George grinned and rocked back and forth on his heels. “And you talked me up? How sweet of you.”

Bill rolled his eyes but grinned back. “More like I looked forward to you tryin’ to tap that. Should have great entertainment value.”

George rolled his eyes back. “You know my parties won’t lack in that. As soon as everyone’s settled, you bet your flat ass, Gonorrhea, that we’ll be playing some games.” He laughed when Bill pouted and took a moment to glimpse at his butt, trying to determine if it was indeed flat. “But back to your original statement - who is this Joe and when are you going to introduce him to his future husband?”

Frannie perked up. “Right now. Joe!” She waved by the door.

George turned as Babe walked in and immediately came towards them. Behind him, another man followed and as soon as George saw his face, his grin fell away and his eyes widened.

The fucking Hot Ninja.

If Joe recognized George, it was only shown for a moment before he leaned in to give Frannie a kiss on her cheek and to shake Bill’s hand. And because of it, George started to second guess himself. Maybe this wasn’t the same guy. Maybe there are two hot men clad in black leather that made George’s heart pound like a freight train in this small town.

But then Joe met George’s eyes and he knew then that he was one in the same, especially when he opened his mouth. “Are you Luz?”

George tried his best not to shiver when that voice said his name. He truly did. But if the smirk on Johnny’s face was any indication, it showed too. Damn, he needed new friends.

“Yeah,” George murmured. “Yeah, I’m Luz.” He paused. “George. I’m George. But also Luz. George Luz. My name.”

In the corner of his eye he saw Babe bite his bottom lip to try and not laugh. If the kid wasn’t careful, he was about to get a flower crown to the nuts.

Joe cocked an eyebrow at the rambling, but he held out a hand. Tentatively, George shook it and he was incredibly proud when he didn’t melt into the floor. Progress.

“Thanks for letting Bill and Babe drag me along.” He let go of his hand and then held out the other, the six pack he bought yesterday being offered. His eyebrow cocked up again and a twitch of a grin played at his too-perfect lips. “I know it’s not ice cream flavored or only 95 calories, but I didn’t want to come empty handed.”

George blinked but took the beer and tried not to jolt when their fingers brushed. “Uh, thanks.” He paused to catch his breath and continued with the only thing he could think of. “Flower crown?”

Joe narrowed his eyes, trying to figure him out once again. Bill’s cheshire grin spread further across his face. “Come on, Joe. Let’s get you one with lavender.” He threw George a wink and Frannie wasn’t much better. She looked like she was holding an internal dance party based on the amusement in her eyes. Jesus, they deserved each other.

George watched the five of them move to the table as he mentally sank into the floor. Closing his eyes, he cursed his way all the way to the kitchen. With a deep breath, he looked at the gift in his hand. Allowing himself a grin, he shoved it way back in the fridge hidden away so that no one would find it and steal it away from him.

* * *

After he got over his initial shock of seeing Hot Ninja - sorry, _Joe_ \- again, George revived into his usual cheerful and hyper self, circling around to speak to anyone and everyone, but always keeping an eye out for tall, dark and handsome.

“Luz. Earth to Luz.”

George blinked back to consciousness and looked at Lipton sheepishly. Skip raised his eyebrows expectedly. “Sorry, Lip. What were you saying?”

Lipton shrugged and took a sip of beer. “Didn’t know if you found out who was moving into Johnny and Bull’s old apartment. Any word?”

George nodded. “Yeah, I overheard Dike mention that two new guys were movin’ in by the end of the month. Hope they don’t suck.”

Skip rolled his eyes but smiled. “We didn’t know what to make of Lieb and Tipper when they moved in last year, but look where we are now. Big happy, semi-incestuous family.”

George slapped a hand on Lipton’s shoulder. “Led by Mama Lip.” Lipton snorted as George turned to Skip. “And we’re not that bad.”

It was Skip’s turn to snort. “Come on, Luz. We mate from within. Winters and Nix started it all back in school, and it had a trickle-down effect to Frannie and Bill, Lieb and Web…”

“Would we consider them a couple?”

Skip smacked George on the chest lightly. “Remember when Babe and Malarkey dated?” 

George shuddered at the memory. “Ginger on ginger. Christ, that was terrible. Thankfully only the one date though. I would have hated to shun them from the family.”

After a few more minutes of small talk, George left to continue his rounds. He was thrilled to see the majority of party-goers crowned with a peppering of flowers, many of them already playing cards or laughing in groups. Damn, he loved throwing parties. 

After a particularly rowdy and somehow strip-version of Spoons, George shrugged his shirt back on to see if there was anyone he missed. The time was just past midnight, and only a few people had left with an excuse here and there, but the apartment and yard were as packed as ever. 

Up ahead, he witnessed just in time Babe standing up from sitting next to Joe in the back corner of the yard on a garden bench that George had put together himself. It didn’t matter that he had several extra pieces leftover, including a leg somehow, the bench was still standing, and it lived on even after holding the heavy build of someone like Joe. George’s eyes gleamed, his confidence returning once more, fueled by a few beers. And with a check of his flower crown, he sauntered over to him. 

Joe looked up as George sat next him, closer than what was really needed as there was plenty of space. George turned to look at him and grinned. “Having fun, Joe?” 

Joe waited a beat before humming in response. Undeterred, George leaned back and draped his arms over the back of the bench. His smile only widened. “Is that a yes ‘hmm’ or a no ‘hmm’?” 

Before Joe could respond, George moved again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Joe was beginning to think the man never stopped moving, but he didn’t say anything. George’s eyes twinkled playfully. “I am going to say it’s a yes ‘hmm.’ Everyone has a great time at Chateau PercLuz.” 

Joe cocked an eyebrow. “PercLuz?” 

“Ah!” cried George. “He speaks!” He nodded enthusiastically. “Perco - Frank Perconte - he’s my roommate. And as you know, my last name is Luz, so…” 

“You don’t say.” 

George tried his best not to color of the memory of his earlier ramblings. It was his own fault really. But it was his turn to goad Joe. “Look at that, three words put together. I’m beginning to think you like me.” 

“Hmm.” 

Another grin broke out against George’s face at the blatant challenge. “Do you like games? Me? I _love_ games. Let’s play one right now.” He bounced in his seat to face Joe better, their knees almost knocking. “What’s your last name?” 

“Toye.” 

“Where did you live before Currahee?” 

“Hughestown.” 

“Where’s that? I never heard of it.” 

“South.” 

George scratched his chin in thought. “If you had to describe yourself, in detail, how would you do it?” 

“Particular.” 

George pouted. “That’s in detail? That’s pathetic!” 

Joe shifted on the bench and leaned back into the corner. “What kind of game is this anyway?” 

George beamed. “Now I’m winning! The goal is to get you to make another noise besides a grunt. Actually I think we’re tied now; I wasn’t expecting a one word answer for _in detail_ , yeesh.” 

As George thought of his next question, Joe took a moment to study him silently. The soft fluff of his dark brown hair still ordained with flowers. His big eyes narrowed in concentration. His tshirt across his chest. His fingers tapping thoughtfully on his denim clad knee. 

George lit up again. “Aha! If you could travel to one place in the world, where would it be _and why_?” 

Joe only hummed again, causing George to sigh dramatically. “Was that even a grunt? Maybe a murmur. I think I get points for a…” He stopped short. 

George’s earlier assessment that Joe was a secret ninja came back full force when the larger man moved forward and leaned towards him with the stealthiness of a panther. After gazing into George’s eyes a moment, he moved his lips to be by his ear. “I wonder what noises I can get you to make, Luz.” 

No one could really blame George for his jaw dropping on its own and the shiver that went up his spine at the heat from Joe’s breath on his neck and the blatant implication of his words. 

But before he could recircuit his brain to form simple thoughts and commands like “blink” and “breathe,” Joe stood up and made his way out of the yard and back into the house. 

Really, he would like to take a poll on what someone else would do in his shoes. Because for the second time within two days, George Luz was dead and his weapon of choice was Joe Toye. 

* * *

It took a few days, but George eventually recovered. When he did, he did _not_ annoy Babe and Bill to death to spill more details about Joe. Nope. No way. 

OK, so he gave up on Bill. Jesus, he could be a grumpy bastard. Frannie offered tidbits on what she knew from when Joe came to their apartment for dinner one time, but all she knew was that he was a really nice guy, a little reserved, but he had no significant other that she heard of. Bill confirmed later that Joe mentioned he wasn’t straight, so George took both tidbits of news to heart. They were two tidbits that made Joe all the more attainable, not to mention his ability to verbally strip George if he only gave the command. 

Babe was even less help. 

“Christ, Heffron,” muttered George as they lounged in the backyard, “As a fellow man lookin’ for love, I figured you’d help a guy out.” 

Babe shrugged from his spot in the shade, long sleeved tshirt swallowing him up. He tried not to be jealous of George’s ability to tan like a demiGod. Damn portuguese skin. “He ain’t my type so I don’t really know much more than what Bill already told ya.” 

George snorted, shifting on the blanket, his bare upper body toasting softly. “How is Joe not your type? He’s gorgeous. His eyes could kill. His voice slays me. _Slays._ Like he’s a knight and I’m a dragon.” 

Babe smirked. “But you want to be the princess.” 

“Damn right I do.” 

They chuckled together before flipping over onto their stomachs. “Did you meet the new guys yet?” asked George. 

“Nope, have you?” 

“Met one of them. A med student. Seems nice enough, but a little quiet. Hope he’s not opposed to the occasional mayhem.” 

“And the other?” 

George shrugged with his chin on his arms. “I haven’t seen him yet, but apparently they don’t really know each other. Took one medical class together, I guess. But Lieb said the man was damn scary.” 

Heffron raised his eyebrows. “Lieb admitted someone was scary?” 

“Yeah. Said he’s a firefighter too. One scary, gorgeous, jacked firefighter to go, please.” 

Heffron snorted. “How do you know he’s gorgeous if you haven’t seen him?” 

George gave him a look as if it were obvious. “He’s a firefighter.” 

Heffron snorted again. “Like I said, those type of guys ain’t my type. I much prefer...prefer…” He trailed off, his eyes wide and looking past George. 

George looked over to see what happened and he found his friend staring up at something. He turned to look and saw their newest neighbor standing then. 

Jumping up with a grin, George pushed his sunglasses back into his hair and motioned to the man. “Eugene! Glad to see you out of the apartment!” 

Eugene smiled softly. “Nice to see you again, George.” 

They both turned to Babe who was still lying on the grass, mouth still open. It took everything in George to hide his smirk. “And this is Heffron, 1A. He lives with Lip. You met him the other day.” 

Eugene simply nodded as they both waited for Babe to finally stand. The goofball finally closed his mouth and grinned slightly as he subconsciously brushed imaginary dirt from his chest. He held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Babe.” 

Eugene blinked at him a moment before shaking his hand. “Eugene. I moved into 1C with Ron.” He paused a moment. “I’m sorry, did you say your name was ‘Babe’?” 

Babe blushed. “Yeah, it’s my nickname. Everyone calls me that. Or Heffron. Only my ma calls me Edward and that’s when I’ve done something mighty bad. Like the time I convinced my brother to climb the drainage pipe because it was the only way to get to the roof and retrieve the frisbee I threw up there, but he fell and nearly cracked his head open.” He stopped when he realized he was spurting nonsense. “I was Edward then.” 

Eugene pulled his hand back and Babe internally cringed when he realized he hadn’t let go all that time. “Well…” Eugene trailed off. “It was nice to meet you. I’ve gotta get back.” 

George nudged him with an elbow. “Next party is on June 1, doc. _We_ hope you can make it!” Eugene simply nodded and walked back into the complex. 

George looked over at Babe and smirked. With a finger under his chin, he closed his friend’s mouth. “Now who wants to be the princess?” 

* * *

George didn’t see Joe again since the May Flowers party, but as June 1 was fast approaching, he made Bill and Babe promise that they’d get him to show up to the next one. Bill was easy enough to manipulate to do his bidding; he only needed Frannie to give her fiance  _the look_ ; and, afterall, she was all Team George. And as soon as he promised Babe to talk him up in front of Eugene, his friend agreed as well, but only after pounding into George’s head how very amazing and attractive he thought Babe was to continually repeat to be hot med student. 

But all the trouble was worth it. George couldn’t remember a time that he was this excited about someone. Not only was Joe hell on fucking wheels in the looks category, but George could sense a dry humor and warm personality under that tough shell. Joe was a challenge and George _loved_ challenges, almost as much as he loved games. 

June’s party theme coincided with national “holiday” - National Dare Day.  It was the perfect opportunity for a theme - and who didn’t love a good dare? 

Webster was over helping Frank and George decorate old poker chips into special dare tokens. Neither Frank nor George thought that paint, glitters and ostrich feathers were necessary for the tokens’ purpose, but who could reject Web when it came to his passion for crafts? 

Unfortunately, it looked like Frank had bailed on them and George was subjected to a 100% concentrated version of flushed and excited Webster as he brandished a hot glue gun and a tray of “perfectly matched pantone fire colors.” Because “fire” must mean “dare” at Michael’s. 

Webster focused on the red token in his hand as he glued together a feather, length of rope, and glitter bomb into something George couldn’t recognize. “It’s not that I mind the sex. It’s still incredible,” he said thoughtfully, missing the grimace that crossed George’s face, “but isn’t it ever going to be more?” 

When George met Webster's eyes after an extended silence, he realized he was supposed to answer this time. “I dunno, Web. Didn’t you say he says ‘love you’ all the time. Ain’t that enough?” 

Webster only blinked in confusion. “But, what about _more_ , George?” 

Luckily Frank decided to arrive home, two hours late, but George couldn’t be happier to see him. Something normal in the sea of glitter-based Web. That was until his best bud opened his mouth. 

Frank looked wildly between them, a frown on his face and brow. “I almost ran over and killed a cyclist with my truck!” George and Webster only looked at him, not even allowed the chance to make fun of his mail “truck,” a favorite past time of everyone in the complex, before he wailed, “And I think I love her!” 

George hung his head, not noticing the vivid Pantone 1505 paint streaking his forehead. “Jesus Christ.” So much for normal.

* * *

George might make fun and whine at Webster's craft projects, but there’s a reason why they asked him for help nearly every month: the party was rocking. And the dare tokens, once just lowly poker chips from Goodwill, were somehow recreated into masculine and handsome necklaces, the ostrich feathers creating warrior tribal wear when paired together around the recipient’s shoulders. 

Strip or Dare Poker was in full swing. To be honest, no theme was needed when it came to a strip version of _something_ to begin, but titles were important to enhance the integrity of their celebrations, so no one asked questions. 

George walked by the table, making a mental note to join after his sweep of the party-goers. Everyone seemed to be having a blast  - _of course_ \- and the dare tokens were a prized possession. If one accepted a dare from someone and completed it, they won the challenger’s token. But if they didn’t complete the dare, they lost one of their own. The guest with the most tokens by the end of the night would receive a coveted prize. 

Even Eugene showed up to the party, although his roommate had yet to make himself known. The elusive Ron remained elusive. 

“Luz.” 

George turned and smiled when he saw Lipton. “Hey man, having a good time?” 

Lipton smiled in return, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. George was still at a loss on how his former girlfriend could break up with someone as amazing and wonderful as Lip. 

“It’s impossible not to have a good time at one of your parties, George, and you know it.” Cutting George off before he could puff out his chest further, he continued. “We’re out of ice and I used up the rest of your coffee, sorry. Apparently Skip dared Don to lay in an ice bath, thinking Malark wouldn’t do it. Needless to say, I’m running out for more, and he’s warming up with the last cup of Folgers in the kitchen.” 

George cackled before nodding. “No one can stop that crazy leprechaun. What was Skip thinking? And thanks, Lip, you’re a pal.” 

George continued on his way after seeing Lipton off, quickly trying and failing to pass by an argument between Lieb and Webster. 

Webster sighed. “No, it’s not that I mind being called by your pet names, but…” 

Lieb sighed back dramatically, rolling his eyes. “What? You too good to be called ‘princess,’ Princess?” 

“ _But_ I would prefer if you were serious once in awhile. What’s wrong with an affectionate ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ or -” 

A huge smirk crossed Lieb’s face. “Or ‘sweet cheeks.’” 

“Joseph Liebgott! You are the epitome of frustration!” 

George tried to get through the crowd faster, but to no avail. 

“Hey, sweet cheeks, I dare you to say something that’s not grammatically correct,” taunted Lieb. “ _Dare you_.” 

Finally the man in front of him shifted and George walked faster before he could witness the uproar and/or makeout session. Catching a glimpse of Joe outside back on the bench alone, George grinned to himself before trying to make his way to his conquest. But before he could, the sight of Babe stopped him. 

George’s eyes widened as he studied the ginger man sitting still as a statue on the couch. His already pale skin was translucent and his mouth was open like a fish, gaping at the carpet. 

“Babe? What’s going on?” 

Babe glanced up at George and it looked as if it took him a moment to recognize him. His mouth opened and closed a few times but he only sputtered a bit. If George didn’t know his friend so well, he might have gotten a little concerned at this point, but he knew the signs - Babe had just made a fool out of himself in front of a guy. And this time it seemed like a doozie. 

And before George could say anything next, he watched as Babe’s eyes widened to saucers and he curled into himself to try and disappear into the leather/recycled plastic blend of the discount furniture. George followed his gaze, and sure enough, he watched Eugene pass by. 

George’s smile widened and he turned back to Babe after Eugene disappeared again, but the redhead’s eyes were latched on the spot where the medic was once. George shook his head sympathetically. “Oh Heffron, what did you do this time?” 

Babe looked at George and his eyes were pleading, but still no words came out. With a sigh, George slapped him on the shoulder and allowed his friend to continue to wallow in his misery and continued on his way outside. 

Making his way over to Joe, his grin broadened when Joe looked up and didn’t grunt this time. Instead he murmured, “Hey Luz. Nice party.” 

George plopped down on what he now christened as “their bench.” _They had a bench!_ George made a mental note that Joe liked questionably made garden furniture. “Wow, not only did you pay me a sweet compliment that I will cherish forever in my heart of hearts, but you said four words in a row and not _one_ grunt!” He rested his arm behind Joe, and he gave him a wink. “I think you like me.” 

Joe looked away with a snort, but George swore there was a hint of a grin on his lips. 

Over the next twenty minutes, George managed to get more from Joe than any other time put together. He could sense a shift in their relationship, especially when Joe began speaking in full sentences. Actually, to George’s delight, Joe seemed to be working up to ask George out. It took everything inside of him to allow it to happen and not scream “YES!” at the top of his lungs before Joe was finished speaking. 

“George! We saved you a place at the poker table!” Waving away Skip, George refocused on Joe, giving him his full attention. 

Joe, seeing this and knowing that the whirlwind that was George Luz had trouble sitting still for five seconds let alone focus on anything 100%, grinned slightly and leaned closer to George. “Like I was sayin’, maybe we could, you know, sometime....” 

“Sometime…” George prodded impatiently when Joe trailed off, inching closer and feeling Joe’s heat. 

“HAS ANYONE SEEN A PENGUIN?” 

Frank’s shout caused both George and Joe to jump and before George could stop him, Joe leaned back into the bench to his original position. Frowning miserably, George knew at that moment he was capable of murder. 

Sighing in annoyance for the ill timing of his friends, George began to lean back himself, but to his surprise, Joe reached over and squeezed his shoulder causing him to freeze. A lopsided grin graced his handsome face before he chucked his chin back towards the apartment. “Get goin’, George. I need to make my rounds and head out anyway.” 

Sighing again, but warming on the inside at the sound of his name on those Adonis lips in _that_ voice, George stood and looked down on Joe, who was still sitting. “We’ll finish this another time?” he asked hopefully, unsure of the response. 

It took a few, long beats of silence and no expression from Joe before the man stood up and towered over George. With the briefest of touches on his jawline, Joe skimmed his thumb along George’s skin before nodding. “I’ll find you before I leave.” 

With that promise embedded directly into his heart - OK, maybe his pants too -, George gave Joe another wink before strolling back into the house, knowing how well his ass looked in his favorite jeans. Before he could replay his interaction with Joe again in his head, he was pulled immediately into the poker game. 

“Finally!” whined Skip, who was down only to his boxers. He tugged on George’s arm until he sat down in his vacated chair. “George is now playing for me!” he announced to the group. 

Malarkey groaned good-naturedly in his chair, looking at his cards. “Come on, Skip. We were about to have a show!” 

Frannie winked at him before pouting. “Yeah, come on, Skip. I’m sure Faye wouldn’t mind!” 

Bill growled in his chair. “But I would. Come on, buddy. Time for some pants.” 

George grinned before standing up. “I hereby invoke my ability to trade. Skip, Bill’s right. Put on some goddamn pants. I’ve got ya.” 

And as if there was some sultry music playing, he slowly pulled up his tshirt, revealing a line of stomach, before teasingly hiding it again. Frannie and Malarkey immediately started catcalling and Bill moaned out, “Every time, Luz!” 

Unbeknownst to George, Joe watched from the corner of the room where Babe still sat without moving. His eyes narrowed as George finally pulled of his shirt before wrapping it around Bill’s neck, shimmying it back and forth. With a huff, he left the party without saying another word to anyone. 

George finally sat down, his eyes glancing at his cards before he looked around the room, watching for Joe to come by as promised. It wasn’t until another hour went by and more of his clothes disappeared, that George realized Joe was nowhere to be found. 

Shrugging a few layers back on, George waved away calls from his friends to keep playing. His eyes scanned the room. _Where was Joe?_  

“Anyone seen Lip?” 

George met Skip’s eyes and he shook his head. “Not since he went out for ice, but that was hours ago.” 

“Anyone seen that goddamn penguin yet?” George rolled his eyes at Frank, but his roomie had found him and raced forward. “George! Hey, did you see a penguin tonight?” 

“Perco, it’s finally happened. You’ve lost it,” George deadpanned. “But it’s OK. You can get it back. The cure is to find Joe with me.” 

Frank snorted before moving away to continue his own quest. George made his way around the apartment, outside, and even in the hallway, but Joe was gone. Swatting away Lieb who brandished an eye-wateringly bright Hawaiian shirt in his hands, and demanding answers from the host, George circled the entire party to no avail. Frowning to himself, he hoped everything was OK, before rejoining the group. 

* * *

It turned out that George didn’t see Joe again for the next few weeks. After bugging Babe and Bill relentlessly, Bill finally gave up that Joe seemed extra scowly lately, but honestly he didn’t notice much of a difference. Babe was stuck in his own misery from whatever happened at the party, something which he still refused to talk about. George was left with nothing to go on.

Although George was disappointed, it wasn’t in his nature to mope. After a few days, he decided that he would see Joe when he saw him. He allowed fate to decide, as infuriating as it was.

Out and about with his friends, he wiggled out from the table at the local pub. “Next round is on me, fellas!” shouted George, grinning as they all cheered him on. Practically hopping to the bar, he almost skidded to a stop when he recognized a pair of broad shoulders wrapped in dusty leather. _Thank you, fate._ With another grin, George slowed his pace until he arrived next to Joe’s side.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Joe.” George waited as Joe looked up from his pint, his grin spreading when the man only hummed at him before looking back at his drink. George leaned casually against the bar, nudging him with his foot. “I see you still have that motormouth. That’s too bad. It’s truly a sickness to constantly run your mouth into oblivion.”

A snort. “You would know.”

A huge smile broke against George’s face and he nudged Joe again, this time making him look up and glare at the jokester. “You like it when I talk.”

A long stretch of silence bore on as Joe’s eyes narrowed at him and George could feel them. Like fire on his skin, he could only gulp. Joe only continued to glare at him. “You’re just a shameless flirt, aren’t you?”

George tried to play it off. He grinned and shrugged. “Who doesn’t like a good flirt?” He placed a hand on his arm. “You seemed to like it at the party. Well, until you disappeared on me. But I am a forgiving man, and I’ll look past it,” he ended with a wink.

Joe shrugged off his touch and glowered. “Save it. Waste your time on someone else.”

George froze and waited for Joe to say something else, but he didn’t. He swallowed nervously, his good humor evaporating. “Did I do something, Joe? I thought we were enjoying each other’s company. At least I was at the party, but I thought you were too.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah, I was enjoying myself, thinking that maybe we got somethin’ or whatever, and then first chance you got, you seemed to enjoy an entire crowd’s company.”

Slowly George put two and two together and a smile swept across his face again. “Are you jealous?”

Joe snorted again in disgust and looked away. George’s smile broadened. He leaned against the bar with his back, elbows on the wood. “Cos you know, you should go ask any of them,” he said chucking his chin towards the corner of the bar where his friends sat. “I almost got thrown out of my own party for talking about you so much.”

Joe turned to look at George, his gaze still hard and if those lips could pout, they would be in that moment. George was ecstatic to see it. Joe hummed. “I ain’t playing around, Luz. I’ve done that shit and I’m over it.”

George hummed back and inched closer to him. “I know I’m not the most mature guy, but I ain’t playing either, Toye.” 

“I’m serious. I’m not one to date more than one guy at a time. And I expect the same in return.” 

George shrugged innocently. “Sounds fair. How’s Friday night sound?” 

Joe gave him a hard look. “Friday night?” 

“Yeah,” chirped George happily, nudging him with his leg, figuring he was safe from dismemberment. “Let me take you out and then I can tell you all about the other men in my life. Cliff notes version - it won’t take that long. Really how long does verbalizing the word ‘none’ take? Because that’s how long that answer will last, so you had better come with some more conversation material. You know, beyond the odd grunt or ten.” 

If George thought he gained the upper hand and caught Joe off guard, that was all thrown out the window when the first wide and full smile from Joe crossed his face and reached his eyes. Those lips were lethal weapons of sabotage and George wondered if he was finally going to find out what they felt like on Friday. 

“Friday sounds good. Let me write down my number so that you can text me the details.” 

George tried to swallow and coat his throat but the Sahara desert decided to move into his windpipe. With a short spasm that was similar to a nod, George regained his composure enough to take the back of a receipt that Joe handed him and then tried to breathe. But those lips. They were still smiling, but - _shit_ \- they were forming words too! 

“... just promise me that isn’t what I should expect,” Joe finished, shrugging his jacket a few times before zipping it up, and his eyebrows raised. 

George blinked a few times before he realized Joe was waiting for an answer. He internally slapped himself before shaking his head. “Absolutely. Totally not what you’d expect it to be.” He paused, looking at his hands before looking back at Joe with big doe eyes. “One question. Just what’s ‘it’?” 

Joe sighed but he couldn’t help but allow a smile to twitch at his lips again. George was adorable, and the bastard most likely knew it. He sighed again. “Text me, Luz. Have a good night.” 

George aboutfaced as Joe moved past him and towards the door. It was several moments before he raised a hand in farewell and shouted, “ _Jeah_!” in his best Dumb and Dumber meets Ryan Lochte voice. 

Joe paused briefly, almost turning at the odd response, but thankfully just shook his head to himself and leaving. 

George melted into the vacant chair before thudding his forehead on the sleek wood of the bar. “Jeah? _Jeah?_ Christ!” But even past his humiliation, George couldn’t stop the smile sliding across his face at the thought of his upcoming date. 

* * *

Not only had George not uttered one idiotic word (okay, maybe a few), but it seemed that Joe was enjoying himself as much as George was. Sure, he was a little hesitant when George told him the place for them to meet on Friday, but it turned out Currahee’s only bar-turned-retro-game-room was not half bad. Actually it became a lot of fun challenging George in Mortal Kombat, skeeball, and Mario Party 2. 

Finally, Joe cried uncle when George destroyed him again on the Nintendo 64 - and to add salt to the wound - as Princess Peach. Together they lounged on one side of a booth and ordered sustenance in the form of wings, beer and nachos. 

George was having hell of a time getting to know Joe. Once the former ninja who barely uttered a word opened up, George was pleasantly greeted by a sharp and funny catch, who, when passionate about something, got warm and soft around the edges. Currently, the topic was his family. 

“I know they’re only a few hours away,” lamented Joe, tapping his finger thoughtfully on the table, “but it’s hard to be so far away. And I couldn’t turn down the job opportunity.” 

George nodded along, turning towards Joe on his hip. “I hear ya. A few visits a year isn’t enough. Sometimes I think about moving back, but then…” He shrugged. “I’ve got my life here now too.” 

Joe grinned at him. “You do have some life here, Georgie. I’ve never met someone with so many friends.” 

Grinning back, he shifted closer. “I’ve got lots of friends, Joe. But I ain’t looking for any more.” George grinned mischievously before leaning in and placing a hand on Joe’s knee. Before he could lay on the flirt, he looked down at his hand before back to Joe. He squeezed his knee playfully, trying to figure out the strange, hard feeling. “Whatcha got, Joe? A wooden leg?” 

Joe hummed and shrugged. “Close, but it’s actually titanium.” 

George’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped before pulling his fingers from the denim. “Christ, Joe. I’m such a fuckin’ idiot. I’m sorry -” 

“Hey,” murmured Joe. “George.” He looked back up to meet Joe’s eyes to find the man smiling softly. “You didn’t know. And I ain’t ashamed of it, so there’s no reason to be sorry.” 

George nodded back, the blush on his neck slowly abating. “Can I -?” He looked again at Joe’s leg. 

“Sure.” 

Slowly, George sank down until he knelt on the floor. Moving to go between Joe’s legs, he noticed Joe shifting his hips a bit, and he had to give him a wink before focusing once more on the right leg in question. He slid up the material until the cold metal was revealed, a wash of silver and black. George fingered the shiny bit. “Christ, Joe. This is so…” 

Joe smirked. “Weird? Yeah, I know.” 

George blinked several times. “I was gonna say ‘badass,’ actually. That and kinda hot.” 

It was Joe’s turn to blink. “Hot?” 

A wide grin spread across George’s face as his hand slowly slid up the artificial leg until meeting the warmth of Joe’s thigh. George was like a cat, prowling forward from the floor and moving closer until his hand stopped on Joe’s hip and his lips were inches from his mouth. His grin only widened. “Yeah, hot.” 

Joe swallowed hard and George’s eyes shifted down to watch his throat move. With a wink, George settled back down next to him, but a little closer this time. He could feel Joe’s heat against his leg. 

With Joe’s eyes on him, George finished his drink almost humming to himself. With a thrill that this attraction thing was maybe going both ways, he turned and looked at Joe through his eyelashes. “Another round?” 

Joe hummed at first before a slow smile cracked across his face. “Yeah. I could go for another round.” 

* * *

Hours passed as they talked about anything and everything. Joe explained how he lost his leg (car accident) and George got on topic of his huge family, which took a good chunk of time trying to explain that his crazy was indeed hereditary, but Joe didn’t mind. He was transfixed watching George speak so lively about people he obviously cared about. 

George was oblivious to the way Joe’s eyes roamed his face, ending and sticking to his perfect lips, almost always upturned in a smile. 

“So Ma was worried that I got Ruthie killed, seeing as that the punk disappeared from under the water,” George rambled on, extremely animated with facial expressions and his hand, “when, in fact, the little devil snuck up behind me and almost just drowned me with several pool nood…” 

He was caught off guard completely when Joe pressed his lips against his a moment after the larger man gently cupped his cheek in a hand. 

When Joe pulled away again, it was to see George sitting in shock, his eyes wide a moment before he mentally shook himself. “Now that’s just not fair, Joe. You surprised me so much that I wasn’t able to fully enjo-” 

Joe swept in again and this time he moved his lips to deepen the kiss. He could feel George’s grin against him, and he couldn’t help but grin back in return. But that didn’t last long when George tilted his head and allowed Joe entry to his mouth, tongue teasing back in challenge. With one hand still latched on one of George’s cheek, the other explored the softness of his hair at the base of his neck. Vaguely he felt George’s fingers grasped around the lapel of his leather jacket. 

When they finally broke away, both eyed each other while breathing hard. The twinkle in George’s eyes only seemed to dance now, and Joe looked away and chuckled. 

George chuckled back and wrapped his fingers around one of Joe’s available hands. Joe looked down at them and smiled before meeting George’s eyes again. “Is that all I get?” he challenged Joe. 

With a grumble in his chest, Joe pulled on George’s hand until the smaller man was practically in his lap. But instead of kissing him again, Joe breathed in George’s ear, “The next time I see you, I hope you can handle all that I give you.” 

And before George could comprehend exactly what - _in detail_  - Joe meant, he was easily picked up as Joe stood up and placed him back on the booth seat. Flabbergasted now with the additional show of blatant strength - not to mention increasingly discomfort in the painted-on jeans he chose to wear that night - George gulped as Joe threw him a wink. “Thanks for tonight, Georgie. I had a great time, and I’ll see you soon.” 

George could only nod in reply before he watched Joe placed a few bills on the table and leave the bar. Sinking into the seat because his bones - well, not _all_ of his bones - decided to melt into oblivion, he immediately sat up with a jolt. 

Tomorrow. The next party was tomorrow, and with it, he would see Joe again. 

With a delighted laugh to himself, George took another sip of beer.


	2. Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank literally runs into his dream girl, and now he's on a semi-desperate mission to find her again. OR Frank is being a creep, but love is love, no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied - this chapter is just as long as the first, if not a touch longer. But I hope you like it all the same!
> 
> ALSO - I mentioned a "movie" title. For the love of all that is holy, do not watch it if you haven't seen it before. Do not Google it. Do not Youtube it. For those of you who, like me, had been tricked into watching it in the past, you know why. Seriously, don't do it. It's mentioned for humor purposes only!

How the hell Lieb picked the fucking padlock on his door, he will have no idea. When the May Flowers party was over, it was sitting in its place innocently and locked up just the way he left it. The only key was in his pocket, and he knew for sure Lieb never fished around in there tonight; the man wasn’t that crafty. But when Frank unlocked the door, sure enough his bed was rumpled and there was fucking lavender on his pillow.

Without George awake to bitch to about the disgrace of humanity in this fucking world, Frank huffed and puffed while he shrugged on his uniform shirt. Sure, he was supposed to wear the blue trousers that completed the look, but luckily his boss at the post office was pretty laid back. Who the fuck wore pleated pants anymore? Welsh was fine with jeans as long as they were clean.

After a quick and vigorous brush of his teeth, Frank made his way out of the apartment once he finished his very pointed note to George to make sure the place was cleaned up before he got home. It was his turn after last night’s party after all and no way George was getting out of it.

Truth was, Frank enjoyed his part time job as a mailman. Especially when the weather was nice, he’d abandon his truck and walk to most of the mailboxes. It was time to himself to step away from the reality of grad school and his insane friends - not to mention the pathetic excuse of his love life.

And thus was his almost daily routine.

After dating a few girls during his undergrad years, Frank hadn’t found anyone that either wanted to stick around or he wanted to continue seeing past the standard few dates. It was this damn small town - unless they were ridiculous freshman girls that appeared every fall, hardly anyone new rolled in. Maybe it was time to move.

This thought was still rolling around in his mind a few weeks later, well after the May Flowers party and planning for the next one commenced immediately (Luz was goddamn relentless). Frank was back to his continual struggle against an old woman, who couldn’t be taller than his chest, which was saying something. Frank tried and failed to turn down the casserole Mrs. Dent handed to him. After handing back her clean tupperware from last week, the old woman sicced another meal onto him. He smiled weakly. “Really, Mrs. Dent. You go to too much trouble.”

The elderly woman gave him a stern look. “You need fattening up, my boy. I hope it’s enough for you and your roommate.”

Frank looked down at the enormous casserole with eyebrows raised. It was enough to feed the entire crew, which included Bull.

He had no choice but to smile back tentatively. “Thanks, Mrs. Dent. It’s plenty.”

The old woman beamed and Frank couldn’t help but grin to himself. She was just too damn adorable. That is, until -

“Now about that date with my granddaughter.”

Frank internally groaned. He might be desperate, but he wasn’t  _ that _ far gone. “Mrs. Dent, you’re sweet, but I’ve got to go.”

“Let me just give you her number…”

Frank sighed and waited another twenty minutes for the grandmother to locate a piece of paper, and then a pen, and then her contact book, and then the misplaced piece of paper again, before…

“Next time, Mrs. Dent,” he rushed out, stepping back quickly on her front walkway. “Promise. Have a nice day.”

And before she could convince him otherwise, Frank was off down the street and continuing in his route after placing the casserole back in his truck.

Muttering to himself, he started the engine to drive a few blocks west. “I can get a date. Just not looking to settle down right now.” He paused as he thought back to his last girlfriend and sighed heavily. He really needed to stop following her on Instagram. That new boyfriend of hers was something out of a magazine. Maybe a blind date wouldn’t be so bad.

Turning the corner and distracted by this thoughts, Frank didn’t notice the bicyclist until he almost hit her. Screeching to a halt, he leaned out the window to glare at the girl that kept moving down the street in the opposite direction, only a wave of her hand in acknowledgment.

“Watch yourself!” she called.

Frank sputtered. “Watch  _ myself _ ?” He raised his voice to tell back to her, “You’re one to talk! You're in the middle of the goddamn road!”

And even with the sun rays behind her silhouette, Frank caught a perfect glimpse of her face when she turned to smile innocently at him. He swore his fucking heart stopped right then. It wasn’t even that she was a drop dead gorgeous model with a killer body. He finally understood what George had been griping about with Toye. What Babe had been obsessing over with Roe.

When her eyes connected with his, something inside shifted. And then her smile, even in jest - something clenched in his belly, and -

And with another wave, she was gone.

After blinking stupidly for several moments, Frank rushed to turn on the truck several times only to realize that it was already on.  _ Right, because you almost just ran her over, you dumbass. _

When his brain and his right foot connected to use the accelerator, it became very clear, very fast, that she was nowhere nearby. Either she is a professional athlete training for a race around the world via two wheels and a handlebar bell, or she lived someplace close. If Frank was a betting man, he knew she must be somewhere in this neighborhood. Trouble was - where?

* * *

George sometimes called Frank obsessive. But really, who wouldn’t be obsessed with where  _ exactly  _ the starting point began of the large ant colony that marched into their apartment every April and stuck around until the first frost? Dike sure as hell wasn’t interested.

Or maybe that time Bravo wasn’t coming in crystal clear on their battered television anymore. It wasn’t as if George was going to create a two-man communication system when Frank himself climbed to the roof to mess with the satellite dish, receiving instructions from George on the other end of the makeshift radio. Loss of cell phone wasn’t worth  _ Top Chef _ , which is saying something.

But now Frank had something new to ~~obsess~~ focus on: pinpointing the exact location of that girl.

Unsurprisingly, George was less than enthused when Frank pulled out a neighborhood map he borrowed from work. But they made a silent truce - Frank could go on about the future mother of his children if George could continue to dream about Joe in his bed.

“He’s just so damn  _ hot _ ,” whined George, helping Frank trace an outline with push pins and string on the map. “People really shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive. It should be against the law.”

Frank snorted. “What law? Law of your pants?”

George perked up and beamed. “Think that will fly?"

Frank snorted again, studying the map with increasing focus. “Only if you help pass a law that forces pretty girls to come out of hiding to give me their names.”

Both George and Frank paused silently after that, the air awkward as they both repeated his words in their heads. Frank looked at George and shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

George cackled, finishing up a corner of the town. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should repeat that ever again. And don’t ask kids to take a ride in your golf buggy either.”

Frank scowled. “Thanks for the sex predator implication and it’s not a golf buggy! It’s United States property, and without my official vehicle, you would never see your best friend, pal, incredible roommate…”

It was George’s turn to snort. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I love you, Perco. No need to drag it outta me.”

Frank grinned back. “Love ya too, George.” After tying off one more piece of string, the outline of the map was complete. He stood and admired their work. “Perfect. Now I just need to narrow the field down, which shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll find her in no time!”

George stood next to his bud and shook his head minutely, careful for Frank not to see it. His eyes scanned over the dozens of square miles that would need to be covered for this plan to actually work. “Yeah, Perc. No time at all.”

* * *

Frank was exhausted. In the two weeks since he saw the love of his life, he had taken on extra shifts and somehow still managed to fit in two summer classes. To top it off, he started hand delivering mail to the recipients if they happened to be home. Mumbling out an excuse that it was a new service USPS was trying, he only received a few strange looks.

He collapsed on the couch across from the table where Skip, Malarkey, Babe and George were putting together a jigsaw puzzle together. Christ, they could be little old women sometimes. But at least they ordered chinese, and Frank helped himself to some moo shu before delving back into the furniture.

“Any luck, Perco?” called Skip as he tried to fit in a piece before scowling and giving up. Their newest conquest was a 2,000 piece monstrosity in all white and with funky edges. It was a hopeless cause in Frank’s opinion. Besides, he needed to retain his energy.

He sighed and swallowed his bite of egg roll. “I know for a fact she ain’t in the northeast corner. It was a long shot anyway, since it’s mostly frat houses, but I wanted to be sure.” He took another bite of pancake. “I think I’m going to try for the younger part of town and leave the retirement community until the end.”

Malarkey grinned. “Bless those poor old men and woman when he does start leaving his scooter -”

“ _ Government _ regulated vehicl -”

“- and they are subjected to Perco ringing their doorbells instead. Just be careful, Perc. Don’t wanna give any little ole ladies a heart attack at the sight of you.”

At the sound of chuckles from the group, Frank couldn’t help but laugh along and puff out his chest and biceps. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“All five foot flat of ya.”

The men laughed louder at that until they started up a conversation again that made Babe moan. Skip nudged his friend. “Come on, Heffron. Look at Frank! He’s out there, being mad creepy, trying to find love!”

Instead of tackling Skip, Frank focused on Babe. “Is it still that med student that just moved in?” Babe, sheepish, tried to focus on the puzzle, but nodded.

George piped up. “Babe’s got it bad. We’ve been trying to bolster his spirits all night. He’s gotta try talkin’ to Eugene at the party this weekend, but he’s shootin’ us down.”

“What’s the theme again?”

“Dares. Don’t puss out, Malark.”

“Only one pussin’ out is Babe.”

Babe groaned again and Malarkey gave him a soft smile. “Just be you, Babe. Hell, you managed to convince someone incredibly handsome to go out with you once. Christ, he’s in this room right now!”

The men jostled Malarkey playfully as Babe snorted. “If you remember, Don, you asked  _ me _ out.”

“Oh, right.”

Skip snorted. “And look how well that turned out.”

George muttered, “Thank God.” And they bumped knuckles underneath the table.

Frank got off the couch and squatted down next to Babe, who got quiet again. “Yo, Heffron.” Babe looked down to meet his eyes. “Just be yourself. If Eugene don’t like it, then he ain’t right for ya.” Babe had yet to look convinced. “You’re a good guy. Funny. Great taste in movies. Talk about that! No one hates movies.”

Babe nodded softly at first until he bobbed his head vigorously. “Yeah, movies. I can do that. Thanks, buddy!”

Frank grinned back before moving into the kitchen for more food. “Just if you ever see my dream girl, grab her number for me, OK?”

* * *

“OK,” George said, quickly straightening the plates on the counter before walking to the front door with Frank. “Prize for most dare tokens at the end of the night is in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

Frank grimaced. “Don’t ya mean their punishment?”

George scoffed, hand to his heart. “You wound me, my brother. Besides, you picked it out, remember?"

A snort. “Don’t remind me. Besides, we know Lieb is gonna win it anyway. Man is relentless.”

George shrugged. “Even better if it’s ugly then. Matches his mug.” He opened the apartment door.

“Whose mug is ugly?”

George and Frank’s eyes flew to see Lieb and Webster standing there, apparently waiting for the party to start. “Bill’s,” they both rang out together.

Lieb snorted. “Absolutely. Don't know how Frannie deals with it.” He walked in, rubbing his hands together. “Now when does the competition start?”

Rolling their eyes, still in sync, George and Frank gave each other a look before handing over his and Webster’s dare tokens.

* * *

The party had been rocking for hours. Frank never knew how they managed it, but each month seemed better and more popular than the last. Word had spread and more patrons appeared, making their already small apartment feel oppressive.

Frank was growing tired of the hubbub. Especially after it was clear that no pretty and petite brunettes were nearby. Passing once more through the patio, he caught sight of George taking closely with Joe, and he couldn’t help but smile.  _ At lease one of us has found what we’re lookin’ for _ .

Making his way back inside, he almost stumbled into a pair of lanky legs that protruded from the couch. Glancing up at the face, Frank’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Babe?” he yelled over the noise of the party, sitting down next to his friend. “What’s wrong?”

Babe slowly swiveled his eyes to meet Frank’s, his skin white and clammy. He didn’t speak, but Frank recognized the signs. He sighed. “What happened with Eugene?”

Babe’s eyes pleaded with him, begging him to somehow turn back time. He looked like he wanted to cry and yell at the same time. Before he could, Frank added, “I thought you were going to talk about movies?”

And as if he had spoken the magic (or damning) words, Babe hissed and recoiled into himself, burying his head in his hands. “I did,” he croaked out, refusing to look at Frank.

“And?”

Meeting his eyes once again, Frank saw real anguish in Babe’s expression. Babe shook his head, and didn’t answer.

Together, they sat in silence, idly watching the crowd and trying not to notice Webster fawning over the impressive array of dare token necklaces on Lieb’s chest. Frank winced when he noticed one of his hands disappear underneath Lieb's tshirt. Tearing his eyes away before he went blind, he sighed again, watching everyone interact with one another.

And almost as if she was on her bike again and colliding with him, there she was.

Buried in a crowd of what looked to be like good friends, her petite body was almost hidden, except for the large penguin costume she was wearing. His mind drifted briefly wondering what dare she must have lost to be forced into something as ridiculous as that, but then his focus snapped back on what grabbed his attention so violently when his eyes first found her: the obvious belly laugh she was trying to diminish.

Her slender arms were wrapped around her polyester amphibian waist. With her head thrown back, (beak open), and her smile wide, Frank watched as the mystery woman gave everything into the laugh, not holding back an ounce. A soft smile graced his face as he looked on from across the room, not even noticing Lieb and Webster quietly entering his room on tip toe.

Blinking happily to himself, Frank watched her go. It took him several minutes to comprehend that. He  _ watched _ her _go_.

Jolting himself out of his daydreams, Frank bolted for the door and outside. She was nowhere to be found. How the hell did a penguin just disappear?

He rushed back inside and shouted, “HAS ANYONE SEEN A PENGUIN?”

If the partygoers were anywhere else except apartment 1B of Toccoa Towers, they might have been more concerned with such an exclamation from the host, but instead, they continued as if he didn’t just interrupt Bill conceding finally and removing his shirt to the shouts of victory, finger pointing, and laughter of Frannie at the poker table.

Sighing miserably, Frank made his way outside again, pestering anyone that walked by if they saw a penguin. After dozens of odd looks, and even one threat of calling the police, Frank dejectedly walked back to the front steps of his apartment and sat down.

Skip came up from behind him. “Hey Frank, have you seen Lip?”

Frank shook his head. “Nah. It’s been a few hours. Last time I saw him was when you and he were helping Malarkey from the bath tub.”

Skip snickered and sat down next to him. “Faye is still ‘nursing’ Malark back to health. Bastard is milking it. But he don’t know that my wonderful wife has other motives. She’s currently whiling away his dare tokens, but I don’t think she’s gonna catch up with Lieb.”

Speaking of the devil, the front door opened and Lieb stepped out, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Huffing impatiently, he crossed his arms over his chest, which was adorned with too many dare tokens to count. “There you are. Are you and Luz playin’ ‘hide and go seek again’? It’s 2am. It’s time for my prize.”

Besides teasing Webster relentlessly and then making it up to him in the bedroom, the only thing Lieb was passionate about was winning. His competitive streak was legendary.

Frank rolled his eyes but then cocked an eyebrow. “Lemme count.”

Lieb rolled his eyes straight back. “Don’t believe me?”

“Nope.”

“I’m actually a little hurt.”

Frank put out a hand and motioned with his fingers impatiently. With a snort, Lieb took off all his dare token necklaces at once and dropped them unceremoniously in his hand. Counting as he walked back into the house, he stopped in the kitchen when he was done.

Raising another eyebrow, he turned to Lieb. “33? How is that even possible when each person only gets two when they arrive?”

Lieb shrugged innocently, but his smirk gave him away. “What can I say? I’m that good.”

A snort sounded behind them and they looked up to see Webster strolling over, hair slightly disheveled. Lieb wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him to his side close, whispering something in his ear that made him blush.

Trying not to be jealous of the casual show of affection that a real relationship held, Frank met Webster’s eyes. “How did he get so many?”

Webster snorted again. “He’ll tell you it’s natural, raw charm, but a throng of underage freshman would tell you it was after Lieb threatened them with a baseball bat named Lucille - strange name, isn’t it? You’d think it would be a man’s name. Something like Jonathan -, that they hastily gave him their tokens and then ran away before we called campus security on them.”

Lieb tried to look affronted by the obviously true allegation, but he couldn’t help the eyeroll when Webster got to the baseball bat. “Princess, first, it was in reference to the current season of ‘The Walking Dead,’ and you would know that if you continued to watch with me.”

Webster crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “They didn’t have to kill off Beth. She was the heart of the show.”

None of them could help the eyeroll this time. “Web, how many does the next guy have? Lieb has 33.”

Webster shook his head. “Lieb’s got 29.”

Lieb’s smirk widened. “Been awhile since you’ve seen me, sweet cheeks. I was able to acquire a few more.”

Webster’s mouth dropped open. “ _ This _ is what I’m talking about! How many guys did you flirt with to get four more necklaces in  _ five _ minutes?”

Lieb tightened his hold on his boyfriend when Webster tried to push away. He crooned, “Web, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. They ain’t what I want.”

Webster’s pout was back. “And what do you want?”

Frank stopped this pre-sex foreplay before it began. He knew that glint in Lieb’s eyes, and it usually came just before they had sex in his bed. “Web, how many does the closest guy or gal have next to Lieb? I know you’ve been keepin’ track.”

Webster tried to ignore Lieb’s lips on his neck and focus on Frank. “Only 16.”

Opening the cabinet door, he searched around for the prize. “Liebgott! Unhinge your mouth from Webster’s throat for one second for your prize, you fuckin’ rabbit.”

At the word “prize,” Lieb did just that and looked on eagerly. That was until he saw his fortune.

“What the fuck, Perco?” Lieb yelled when Frank threw the Hawaiian shirt at him. The intense array of turquoise, orange, and bubblegum pink made his eyes water. “This is it?”

Frank shrugged. “It’s for the July party. Show up in that and you’re ready to go.” A group of guests were leaving, each either waving or slapping Frank on the back in thanks.

Lieb continued to sputter. “No fuckin’ way am I ever wearing this! You call this a prize?”

As Frank was about to retort that the goddamn shirt was $20 out of his own pocket, thanks very much, when a snippet of the retreading group’s conversation floated towards him.

“Christ, what a night! I feel naked now that my tokens are gone.”

“Jack, that’s probably because you’re still only in your boxers.”

“Better naked then to leave in a penguin costume, amiright?”

“New girl is somethin’ else!”

Frank automatically began making his way out the door with them, but Lieb grabbed his arm. He shook him off. “Go pester George about it - I gotta go!”

Lieb’s grumbles and Webster’s laughter faded away as Frank jogged up to the group. Once there, they turned at the sound of his footsteps. He paused awkwardly. “Er - just wanted to make sure everyone got everything. Wallet, phones, keys…” They all began nodding back. “...penguin costumes…..”

Sure enough, the group began to laugh, making Frank sigh in relief. Strangers and conversation weren’t really his ideal situation.

“Nah man, the girl with the costume left a little while ago.”

The girl next to him nodded. “Yeah, I heard her laughing that she would have to waddle all the way back to Stacy’s place in it. Part of the dare, I guess.”

Frank grabbed the snippet of a clue and ran with it. “Who’s Stacy?”

And his hope snapped back all at once. They all shrugged. “Blonde Stacy. Sorority junior. Likes frogs,” replied another girl.

The first girl rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not frogs. It’s turtles.”

Frank blinked at them as they continued to argue. The guy nearest to Frank met his eyes and shrugged. “Have a thing for Stacy?” he asked conversationally.

Frank sighed and shrugged back. “Nah, it’s not Stacy I’m lookin’ for. Got anything on the penguin?”

He and his friend next to him laughed at Frank’s question. “Don’t know her name, but she’s new. Transferred from someplace north.”

The first guy grinned. “But I do know she left her boyfriend behind.”

Frank perked up and grinned back as the group was on their way once more. “Thanks man. Hope to see you guys next month!”

With the girls still arguing over Blonde Stacy’s preference to questionable pets, the guys waved to Frank and then disappeared around the bend.

* * *

“A few hundred people in our place, and hardly anyone notices a goddamn penguin among us.”

A collective sigh rang out among the tables pushed together at the bar. George, Skip and Malarkey gave one another looks on the sly as they downed more beer. Bill and Frannie looked to almost be asleep from the conversation, her head lolling into the crook of his neck, and Johnny hit his forehead on the wood several times. Only Babe remained quiet, something that everyone noticed since the last party. The man usually didn’t have an off button.

Frank sat down next to him on the bench and grumbled. “A fucking penguin. Gone.” It had been a few weeks since the party. Even after his continuous stint around town delivering mail by hand, there hadn’t been a whisper about her. Frank sighed, giving it up for the night. He turned to Babe, who was silently watching the others laugh and joke effortlessly. “How’re you doin’?”

Babe grimaced before plastering a smile on his face. “Peachy keen, jelly bean. Or so Lip likes to say these days. He’s been rhyming a lot lately.”

Giving him a weird look, Frank added, “Yeah, where has your roomie been? I don’t think I saw him since the party.”

Babe shrugged, his eyes still on the group. “Dunno. He hasn’t been home lately. But when I text him, he appears pretty fast. Keeps sayin’ he’s on campus or somethin’.”

“Huh.”

Frank watched as Babe continued to sit and watch silently, his demeanor obviously sullen. Feeling eyes on him, he turned to see Bill watching Babe as well. Chucking his chin lightly as to not wake Frannie, Bill silently asked Frank to help.

Nodding and then standing up, Frank took a deep breath. “I need some air.” He looked down at Babe. “Are you comin’?”

Blinking a few times as if he almost didn’t hear him, Babe nodded and walked out with him. Distantly they heard George get up from the booth.  “Next round is on me, fellas!” he shouted, grinning as the rest of them all cheered him on.

Once they were outside, he turned to Babe and gave him a stern look. “OK, spill. What happened at the party with the new guy? George said you almost hid inside the sofa when he walked by you later that night, and Bill says you refuse to say anything.”

“OK,” muttered Babe, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as if what he was about to say would kill him. Frank just gave him a look before he finally gave in.

“OK,” Babe repeated. “So we’re at the Dare party. Frannie was getting me going, telling me what a catch I am.” He paused to roll his eyes.  “Blah blah blah. And then Bill was fueling the false sense of confidence with several beers.”

Frank nodded along, visualizing it perfectly. Frannie, ever the cheerleader, and Bill, ever the enabler/permanent asshole. “So you were on your way to being a drunken fool already.”

Babe nodded back enthusiastically. “Exactly. And I believed every word that devil woman told me.” He sighed rubbing a hand across his face. “And then I bumped into Eugene.”

Frank raised an eyebrow when he didn't continue. Trying to help, he said, “Well, I thought Lieb said he was scary or somethin’. Did you fight?”

“Nope,” Babe replied, shaking his head with a sigh as if he preferred a mass murderer. “That’s Eugene’s roommate, Ron, I think.” Sighing again, although turning breathy and hopeful. “Eugene is anything but scary.”

“Babe, I’ve seen for myself. You’re terrified of the man.”

Babe turned and gave Frank a look as if it was obvious. “Now I am! Before the party I was cautiously optimistic that I could at least talk to him. Find out if he was interested.” He sighed dramatically. “But I’ve ruined it.”

Frank prodded, “What happened?”

The pain of Babe’s face became more pronounced and his eyes became pleading once again, just like at the party. It was a long moment before he answered. “I did like you suggested. I talked about movies.”

Frank sighed. “And?”

Babe sighed back. “And Eugene isn’t much of a talker. Great listener, but doesn't contribute much. And you know what happens when I’m met with silence! I babble!”

Frank gave him a look. “And?”

Babe threw up his hands, and Frank knew it was all going to come out now. Once Babe got started on something, nothing could stop him, even when his foot started going so far in his mouth to reach his ass.

“And I started talking about every movie I had ever seen - ever!” Babe’s face was flushing from pink to purple quickly as he didn’t take a breath. “And that includes the  _ David the Gnome  _ movie, my secret crush on Aladdin when it came out, and… and…” He faltered for a moment before he clenched his eyes shut tightly. “And other movies.”

Frank was lost. “Other movies?”

Babe’s eyes snapped open and he ground out. “ _ Other _ movies.”

Frank put two and two together. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Babe waved his arms frantically. “But just wait - there’s  _ more! _ When Eugene didn’t reply, because  _ who could blame him honestly when a practical stranger starts talking about pornos _ -” Deep breath and he closed his eyes in pain again. “When he didn’t say anythin’, I started talkin’ about how when I was in high school, I still wasn’t sure if I was gay or not or whatever. And Bill -  _ that fuckin’ bastard _ \- suggested that I watch some girl on girl porn. See what happens downstairs.”

Frank bit his lip to try and keep the laughter inside. “That ain’t so bad. Who hasn’t watched that?”

Babe glared at him. “Obviously you haven’t heard the story about what porno Ole Gnorrhea suggested for me to watch. Oh, but Eugene has.” He leaned against the side of the building and looked as if he was going to cry again. “I’d be surprised if he ever spoke to me again,” he added softly.

Frank mimicked his movements and leaned against the wall with him. “What was the movie, Babe?”

He shied away from Frank and mumbled something into the brick. Frank rolled his eyes. “I promise not to tell anyone. Just get it off your chest.”

Babe faced forward again and sighed. In a rush, he spurt out, “Two girls and a cup.”

Frank immediately choked on some saliva and coughed violently, his eyes wide. The contents of his stomach threatened to come up just at the sheer memory of his own experience being tricked into watching that particular “porno.” It took him a moment to compose himself. “And what did Eugene say?”

Babe’s face flushed with anger this time. He turned his eyes back to Frank. “What do you think he said? I tell him that my intelligence is so low that I willingly watched the beginning of what can only be described as the most unholy, horrible movie I’ve ever seen, and then I tell this to someone I’m trying to mack on -  _ what do you think he said, Frank _ ?”

Frank cleared his throat. “He didn’t say anything.”

Babe nodded violently. “That’s right. He didn’t say a goddamn thing. And if I gave him the chance to before I ran away first, I’m sure it would have been a proper telling-off.”

Before Frank would reply with  _ some _ sort of words of condolence of encouragement for his poor buddy, Babe froze. Frank turned and followed his eyes to behind him. His eyebrows rose when he saw Eugene walking towards them and the door to the bar. But when he turned back to Babe, his friend was gone.

At a loss for words, Frank could only turn back to Eugene. “Hey Roe,” he exclaimed, his voice higher than usual, holding out his hand.

Eugene shook it. “Frank, right? Thanks for inviting me to the party the other week. I had a good time.”

Frank didn’t know how that was possible, given the scenario that Babe just painted him, but he smiled back. “Sure thing, man. Next one is on July 10. Hope you like cats.”

Eugene narrowed his eyes in confusion for a moment, before deciding to ignore the comment. “Was that Heffron with you?”

Frank tried not to wince. “Yeah, he had to go.”

Quiet in thought, it took a moment before Eugene motioned to the door. “You going back inside? I could use a beer.”

Thankful that the topic of Babe was gone, Frank grinned and walked inside with him. “Yeah, me too.”

Eugene gave him a side look as they made their way to the bar, finding George sitting in a chair there by himself, but happy as a clam, an old receipt clenched in his hand. He saw them and waved them over. “Cats, huh?”

Frank rolled his eyes, as they stood next to George, who signaled to the bartender. “Yeah. Don’t ask.”

Eugene shrugged. “Better than the goddamn penguin I saw. Poor girl.”

George slammed his head down on the wood as Frank’s jaw dropped and he grabbed a hold of Eugene’s arm. They had a lot to talk about that night.

* * *

Another day, and another near miss on getting set up with Mrs. Dent’s granddaughter. Frank sighed to himself, peeling off his work uniform. He was almost desperate enough to take her up on the offer this time. Almost.

Even after he squeezed every detail from Eugene on what he knew about the girl in the penguin costume (not much to be fair, but he didn’t blame the med student), Frank was striking out.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Tonight was the July party, and besides, he was too busy trying to tune out George. There was no room for his own daydreams.

George hung up another huge, papier-mache pineapple from the ceiling before jumping down to grab an equally large and honestly frightening kitten balloon. “And then, we talked almost all evening, Frank! And then - you’ll never guess.”

Frank grumbled, having heard all about his date ten times beforehand. “Wanna bet?”

George sighed happily. “In the middle of some stupid story I was telling, he just upped and kissed me! Like kissed me-kissed me. None of that quick peck on the lips and call it a night. And  _ then _ he did it again.” He fawned over his own memories with a quick fan wave over his face. “It was the best kiss I have ever had. No lie. Best ever. Oscar winning performance.”

Frank rolled his eyes to himself. He was happy for George, he really was. He was his best friend, and he deserved to be in love. But if he had to hear one more time about what would happen the next time George saw Joe…

“And do you know what he said would happen the next time he saw me?”

With a quick mumble for the bathroom, Frank made his way out of the living room and away from George’s misty eyes. In the end, there was only so much stalling he could do. When a loud blast of Jimmy Buffet rang from outside his safe haven, Frank steeled himself for what he was prepared for a night of George making puppy dog eyes at Joe constantly. He tried not to be jealous.

Even though Frank was prepared for the decorations seeing as he and George bought and hung them up, he couldn’t help but cringe at the mishmash of the display. His opinion was confirmed as soon as the door opened and Bill and Frannie walked in.

Both their jaws dropped. Bill reacted first. “Fuckin’ Christ…”

George, as always, bounced over to them and beamed, his obnoxiously loud shirt seemingly blinding poor Frannie. She averted her eyes. “Happy National Kitten and Pina Colada day!” he cried. And as if to apologize for her watering eyes, he instantly handed her a mixed drink, topped with paper umbrella and cat straw.

Shrugging and accepting the drink, Frannie began to wander the room to study everything. Bill, George and Frank watched her go. “There are leis in my bedroom, Fran!” George yelled. He lowered his voice and added to the men, “Because hopefully I will be laid in there tonight.” Frank and Bill snorted before George yelled again to the single woman in the room, “And make sure you say hi to…”

A squeal erupted from the bedroom and Frank and George laughed. Giving them a look, Bill walked to catch up with his fiance, and then the hosts heard, “Jesus Christ,” muttered.

Frannie came out, clutching a small, grey kitten to her chest, her eyes huge and shining. “Where did you find them?”

Frank shrugged and smiled shyly. “When George and I were trying to figure out a theme, and this animal got hooked on the idea of kittens - I made him promise not to sport a tail tonight, you’re welcome - I remembered that the small animal shelter on my mail route had several kittens in need of adoption. We’re fostering them for the weekend in hopes that a few suckers attend the party and take them home.”

Before Frannie could even fully turn and look Bill in the eye, he ground out a hard, “No.”

Square-jawed and stiff-lipped, George and Frank knew better than to think Bill would win this fight. They watched in a matter of moments as the woman gave him her best pout and his resolve already began to crumble. But it wasn’t until she whispered something in her fiance’s ear that made Bill sigh in defeat.

Skipping back to George’s bedroom to place the kitten back in the pen with his brothers and sisters, Bill looked at the duo with his best death glare. “You’re both gonna fuckin’ pay for this.”

Bill didn’t have enough time to go into details about how exactly he would enact his revenge, because a dozen more people entered the apartment and the party quickly became underway. At the door, George and Frank directed people where to go, Jimmy Buffet still blaring beyond the sound of the blender as pina colada after pina colada was doled out.

Frank was wondering when the inevitable would happen and George would disappear with Joe the moment the man arrived and he would be left as a solo host, but he needn’t worry. After a quick hello to Babe, Joe waltzed in and stopped short when he saw George. The smaller man also froze and they stared at each other long enough for Frank to look between them in wonder a few times before breaking the silence. “Hey Joe, thanks for coming. Leis are in the bedroom to the right and drinks in the kitchen.”

Joe nodded but still looked at George, his expression neutral. “Thanks.” He paused for a long time. “Luz.”

George swallowed hard before he replied, “Joe.”

And before Frank could come up with a new way to break the tension, Joe walked away and headed towards the kitchen as instructed.

Frank didn’t have time to console George, who looked as if Christmas had been canceled. Another slew of people came in, and soon they were separated to divide and conquer them with information

* * *

Frank was pretty sure he grilled every single person in the room about the penguin girl from last month’s party, some of them two or three times since he lost track on whom he spoke to. Currently, he sat next to Babe and Bill on the bench outside as Bill tried to bolster Babe’s spirits.

Bill pointed into the apartment. “You go in there and grab his attention.”

Babe whined and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I can say somethin’ else idiotic? I don’t think so. I think I’d like to keep July idiot-free, thanks.”

Bill threw up his hands in frustration and grunted. “You ain’t never gonna get the guy if you sit out here like a bump on a log!”

“I happen to like logs. They help make fire.”

Frank nodded in agreement. “Fire pretty.”

Bill grunted again and shook his head. “The both of ya are killin’ me.”

With a sigh, Frank knew Bill had a point. Sitting outside and moping weren't going to help him find her. Standing up with a stretch, Frank left them to go back inside.

Making his way towards George’s bedroom to check on the kittens, he stopped short when he heard moaning coming from his bedroom.

“Come on,  _ liebling _ , just touch it.”

“Princess, you bite me enough, quit it already!”

“Just rub this on your skin, Joe. It feels incredible. Feel how warm it is.”

Lieb sighed, but before he could respond, Frank busted into the room, hand over his eyes. He pointed at them wildly. “Quit having sex in my bed!”

Silence echoed long enough that Frank peeked through his fingers to find nothing what he expected. Lieb and Webster, fully dressed, had commandeered one of the kittens to play with on their own. Currently, Webster gave him an affronted look as if they’d  _ never _ consider doing what Frank accused them of, but Lieb only smirked and shrugged. “Alright,” he drawled.

Webster forgot his hurt and held out the tiny kitten in his hands to Frank. “Do you see how precious it is?” He turned to Lieb. “Can we keep it?”

Lieb rolled his eyes. “Web, you forget we’ve both got roommates, although I doubt your roommate thinks so as you spend so much time at my place.” And to Frank’s amazement, the sardonic look on his face softened slightly as Webster rubbed the soft fur on his cheek. Lieb sighed, trying to keep it together. “We can get a kitten as soon as Jimmy Fuckin’ Buffet quits playin’.”

Webster’s eyes got wide. “But it’s locked on repeat and George hid the iPod so you couldn’t destroy it like last year's Macarena party.”

Frank slowly backed up from the argument, just thankful that his sheets were clean and his eyes didn’t burn with the image of his friends fucking.

Moving down the hallway on his quest to check on the others cats (they promised the shelter they’d look in hourly at least), he paused again when another strange noise rang out, but this time from the linen closet.

Without thinking, Frank opened the door, and he knew then, until his dying day, that image would remain to haunt him.

George was propped up against the shelves, legs twisted around Joe’s waist, his shirt long gone. With his jeans unbuttoned, George pressed up to try and meet Joe’s hips with his own, and he groaned when he did. It took Frank a moment to realize Joe’s hands had disappeared underneath the denim of George’s pants, and he didn’t ever want to know where exactly they had gone. Lost in one another and lips locked together, neither noticed him.

Slamming the door shut again, Frank slowly made his way back outside, blinking hard to try and make what he saw go away. But only one thought continued to haunt him: his entire supply of clean sheets would have to be burned.

Sinking down on the bench next to Babe - Bill had gone to see what Frannie was up to - Frank sighed dramatically. Babe nodded in agreement. “Just bumps on a log, Perco. Fuckin’ bumps on a log.”

* * *

Frank sighed and ran a hand over his face. What a fucking night. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the nightmare that was Babe in love (and the similarities to his own love life) or running into George and his new boy toy as they rounded third base. Really, it was a struggle. And after all of that, his mystery girl didn’t show.

Desperate for some fresh air - even sticky, humid, summer devil’s breath air- he left the complex and began to walk.

Within a few minutes, Frank happened to walk by Toccoa Towers’ only real competition when it came to house parties. A strong scent of pot wafted from the house, and the concrete of the sidewalk even seemed to rattle with the vibrations of the music coming from inside. Rolling his eyes, Frank continued on his way, looking across the street, hoping no one from the neighborhood would spot him.

And because of the next moment, Frank swore to himself soon after that he should stop paying attention to his surroundings more often.

“ _ Oof! _ ”

Frank only had a moment to steady himself and the person in front of him by grabbing their shoulders. When he saw her face, his eyes widened and his hands unconsciously tightened on her skin.

The girl - his  _ mystery _ girl aka terrible bicyclist but damn good at hiding in this small town - looked up and met his eyes with a sheepish smile. Her face was flushed and even under the steady pressure of Frank’s hands, her body wobbled back and forth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That was my fault completely.”

It was her alright. Same playful lit in her voice. Same beautiful smile. But this time whole and real in his hands. _Shit!_ _His hands_!

Blushing slightly when he realized how long he held onto her, Frank stopped touching her like he’d been burned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No,” he murmured back, before clearing his throat. “No, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’.”

The girl studied him in what Frank thought were the most fascinating eyes he ever saw. Even slightly glazed with obvious alcohol, they were bright and sharp, the warm brown color just calling to him.

Something visibly clicked inside her head before she feebly tried to smack his arm. “Again! You weren’t looking where you were going again!” She smacked him again, laughing. “You’re the mailman!”

Frank wanted to melt away.  _ Is that all she remembered about him? Neighborhood mailman? _ “Yeah, that’s me.” He paused and straightened his spine. “Frank. My name is Frank actually. And yeah, I deliver mail, but it’s just a part time thing. But I gotta say, it can actually be fun, getting to know everyone.”

The girl’s smile turned warm. “Yeah,” she nodded back. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you, Frank. Actually, you probably know -”

A shout was sounded behind her and she was cut off. Frank relished in the opportunity to openly study her as she waved to her friends, sticking two fingers in the air and laughing. It took everything inside of him not to touch her again.

He cleared his throat when she turned back to face him. “Sounds like your friends want you.”

She giggled and sighed. “Yeah, they are ready to go. Party wasn’t the best.”

Frank motioned to behind him awkwardly with a hand. “Well, there’s a kickass party back at Toccoa Towers. I just came from there.”

The girl smiled slyly. “Last time I went to a Toccoa Tower party, I ended up dressed like a penguin.” She pressed the creases in her skinny jeans away before folding her hands together primly, her face suddenly somber. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m a lady.” She paused before grinning again. “And it’s way too hot to go in a penguin costume again.”

Frank chuckled, his eyes bright, and his words tumbled forward on their own. “Some lady.”

Internally, he immediately cursed himself for being rude and no doubt offending her, but to his happy surprise, she only laughed. She grinned again. “Fair enough. I did almost run over a government employee with my Schwinn.”

Frank’s smile doubled. “So you admit to being the guilty party?”

The girl shrugged one shoulder innocently. “Maybe.”

Spurred on by her gentle flirting, Frank took the plunge. “Well, anyway, you should give the Toccoa parties another shot. There will be another in August. And I promise no penguin costumes will be forced upon anyone, even attempted murderers.”

And then he heard it for himself. Her belly laugh that he witnessed from afar last month. Tipping her head back, the girl laughed loudly before recovering and nodding back to him, oblivious of the obvious want in his eyes. “And how are you able to promise that? I heard the guys in that apartment are wild.”

Snorting to himself, Frank grinned, finally trusting himself to remove one hand from his pocket and rub the back of his neck shyly. “Actually, that’s my -”

Another shout erupted from behind her. She turned and waved once more before looking at Frank with an obvious apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Frank. But I’ve got to go.”

Frank watched as she began to jog away, but he was frozen to the spot. The only thing he could think of was making sure he saw her again. “Come to the August party!”

She turned towards him, shouting back, “What day?”

Doing some quick math of the first available Saturday of the month, he shouted back, “August 7!”

She waved back in acknowledgment, and then she was gone.

It took Frank several moments to realize three things: 

  1. God, he hoped August 7 was cool with Luz. But from what was still burned on his corneas now until his final day, Luz would be cool with anything as long as Joe was there.
  2. Damn, August 7 was far away.
  3. Wait, did he really not get her name? _Fuck!_



Squatting down on his heels and with his head in his hands, Frank let out a frustrated grunt turned moan. How could he be so stupid? It’s as if her smile triggers something inside that instantly turns himself into an idiot.

And after another moment of beating himself up, Frank stood back up and made his way back to his apartment to wallow in whatever liquor was left.

* * *

Frank was eager to get out of the house. Especially when George came home yesterday, arms laden with pink Victoria’s Secret bags, and he knew for certain that Joe was coming back from his trip to his folks today. It was safer being out of the apartment for a few hours.

Passing by apartment 1C, Frank couldn’t help but pause a moment when he heard something strange behind the door. In another moment, his eyebrows flew up as the blatant sound of a sexual moan was heard.  Whether it was Ron or Eugene, he didn’t want to know. Goddamn, was everyone getting some but him?

On his way to his car, Frank passed by Babe, on his way back from his own job. Frank couldn’t help but be relieved to see him, the seemingly only other man on the hunt.

He frowned when he got closer though. Babe looked exhausted and drawn. “Hey man, you alright?” Now that Frank came to think of it, his friend had looked that way since the Cat Colada (George’s name invention. The man had a thing for alliteration.) party a few weeks ago.

Babe simply nodded and yawned. “Yeah, just didn’t get much sleep. Lookin’ forward to a nap right now before my night class.”

Frank nodded back, but something clicked together from a few moments ago. “Rest up. But do yourself a favor and go through the back door. This door is stickin’ a little. I’ll call Dike before I leave.”

Babe snorted. “As if a sticky door will stop me.” He kept walking towards the front door, Frank eager to catch up to his long stride. “Been dreamin’ about a nap all day, Perco, ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me unless…”

He opened the door before Frank got there. Immediately the grunts and groans from inside 1C could be heard through the cheap apartment door. Babe froze and Frank grimaced.

After a moment, Babe took a deep breath and waved to Frank as he made his way to his apartment next door. “Have a good shift, Frank!”

Frank craned his neck to watch until Babe disappeared. “Shit,” he muttered. So much for being happy a friend was also single. Now he just felt like a jackass.

With a wrinkle of his nose at the sound of a high-pitched  _ keening _ from beyond 1C, Frank left for his shift before he was late. “Jesus,” he thought thinking of the soft-spoken Eugene. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

* * *

Frank rounded the bend in his mail truck into the retirement community. Briefly, he looked down at the empty casserole dish and his stomach growled. It wasn’t uncommon for him to tuck into Mrs. Dent’s meals before he brought the leftovers home, even when he fought against her giving him it in the first place. They were damn delicious, and there was only so much pizza and canned chili one man could eat.

Parking on the end of the street, Frank began to rifle through the mail and walk down the block, placing envelopes and packages in various mailboxes on his way. Gone were the days of going to the front doors - he had given up on finding the mystery girl via his mail route. It was up to fate now. Fate and hope that she would show up to the next party.

He made the exception for the Dent residence, knowing he had to return the dish, and also knowing a late lunch probably laid just behind the powder blue door. Knocking quickly, Frank edged back and waited for the old woman to answer.

As always, she peered around the edge of the frame before opening the door wide and beaming. “Frank,” Mrs. Dent cried. “It’s so good to see you, my boy. It’s been ages.”

Frank smiled back. She really was adorable. Made him miss his own grandma in Chicago so much. “Hi, Mrs. Dent. Thanks again for the casserole.”

She beamed, taking the empty container. “You know I like a young man with a healthy appetite. Now come in, please, come in. You have excellent timing. There’s something for you in the kitchen. Casserole in the oven is nearly done.”

Frank frowned. “I’m not supposed to, Mrs. Dent. It’s against the rules. I can always come by on my way back.”

Mrs. Dent gave him a stern look. “I would like you to go to my kitchen. Now.”

Frightened that maybe the elderly woman was somehow an ax murderer, Frank didn’t know if it was better to run from her like a little boy or obey her. He chose the latter and walked inside.

Just like his grandma’s house, the living room was filled with antique spoons on showcase, thick blue carpeting, and a distinct musty smell that just reminded him of his childhood.

She motioned towards the kitchen and he followed quickly. “The casserole will have to cool, of course, but I did just finish making cookies. You’ll have some.” It wasn’t a question, but Frank wouldn’t say no to them anyhow. “Evelyn!”

At that, Frank’s eyebrows quirked upward, but nothing could prepare him for what he found in the kitchen. It stopped him dead in his tracks.

She turned from her spot at the sink with a wide smile. With her eyes twinkling, it quickly turned into a slight smirk. “Yes, Nana?”

Mrs. Dent motioned to Frank with her cane. “Dear, this is the boy I’ve been trying to set up with you.” She turned to him. “Frank, this is my granddaughter, Evelyn.” Frank only blinked at his mystery girl, his mouth agape. The woman continued. “You’ve been a hard nut to crack, young man. I’m sorry if I scared you back there, but I have a feeling about the two of you.” She took a cookie from the table and began shuffling back towards the living room. “My stories are on. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

It took several moments for Frank to register any thoughts beyond  _ Evelyn. Her name is Evelyn. _ But he finally got there. Seeing his struggle, she had mercy on him and walked slowly towards his frozen form.

Grinning, she said, “Do you recognize me? I know I’m not drunk or in a penguin costume or terrorizing the streets of Currahee on my bike, but Nana has been trying to set me up with the ‘nice mail man’ for months, ever since I moved into town.” Evelyn paused briefly, smiling shyly. “When I saw you, I made it a point to visit more, hoping to catch you on your route.”

Frank blinked stupidly again until a smile slowly stretched across his face. “You have no idea how long I’ve tried to find you. Ever since you almost killed me on that damn bike.”

Evelyn laughed loudly, throwing her head back, and his smile only widened. Fueled mostly by making sure she was really there and that she couldn’t get away again, Frank gently grasped her hand in his, causing her to blush and immediately go silent. He grinned, “Are you coming to the next party?”

Evelyn hummed in agreement. “August 7, right?” She stepped closer to him, taking his other hand with her free one. “But I’ll be honest.” His heart skipped a beat in fear a moment before she smiled wide. “I was hoping you’d ask me out before then.”

Frank’s face hurt so much from smiling so hard. Twisting their fingers together, only one word repeated over and over in his head.  _ Evelyn _ .

And in the other room, Mrs. Dent smiled smugly to herself and pretended to watch her stories on the old box television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is king! And Babe is next :)


	3. Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe really thinks his love life can't get much lower, especially if his heart remains on Eugene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long break in between - I have no excuse! And this chapter is about the length that I planned, not crazy long like Frank's or George's.
> 
> No warnings about terrible internet movies this time. Just enjoy!

Bill threw up his hands in frustration and grunted loud enough to be heard over the noise of the partygoers, Jimmy Buffett, and squeals from the kitten lovers. “You ain’t never gonna get the guy if you sit out here like a bump on a log!”

Babe sat up straighter, perfecting the knot of his imaginary tie in a dignified air, pinky out. “I happen to like logs. They help make fire.”

Frank nodded in agreement. “Fire pretty.”

Bill grunted again and shook his head. “The both of ya are killin’ me.” And with a sigh, Frank stood up and walked away muttering about checking on the kittens. 

With a supreme effort not to wring his best bud’s neck, Bill turned to Babe with a pointed look. “I ain’t sayin’ this again so pay attention.” His glower softened and he clapped Babe on the shoulder. “You’re a good guy. Any chump would be lucky to have ya. But either you go after him or you move on, simple as that.” 

Babe knew Bill had a point. He wouldn’t get Eugene’s attention hiding away. But then again he won’t get Eugene’s attention if he fumbled the conversation again. Or it would be bad attention, and, at the moment, he preferred no attention. 

Especially in that next moment. 

Bill and Babe looked up when a pair of sneakers appeared by their feet. Trying not to swallow his tongue when Babe’s locked on Eugene’s face, he waited with bated breath, determined not to ruin the fact the gorgeous man came within 50 yards of him. Again. 

Gleefully, Bill tried not to clap, but gave Eugene a wide grin instead. “Heya, Gene. Take a load off. We can make room.” 

Babe almost forgot Eugene’s deep and silky voice since he hadn’t heard it in so long. The sound of it eliminated any chance of a word from Babe; his throat was parched. 

Eugene lifted an eyebrow. “You sure?” But he wasn’t looking at Bill. Babe made a mental note to add Cajun drawls to the illegal list. 

Bill - that _bastard_ \- grinned again, moving down to his end of the couch, making room for Eugene to sit between him and Babe. “Absolutely.” 

With a shrug, Eugene sat down, the cheap only semi-supportive springs of the furniture causing his thigh to press up against Babe’s. He closed his eyes in internal pain when he felt Eugene’s heat. 

After a few tense moments of silence, Bill broke it by sucking some air in loudly and standing up. “Just remembered. Gotta go find Frannie. You understand.” The movement and lack of his weight on the couch only forced Eugene and Babe to lean closer to one another. Babe tried to ignore how perfect his shoulder seemed to fit against his own. And then _that bastard_ leaves them before Babe can stop him, self-satisfied grin in place and all. 

Helpless, Babe looked at his hands. At the very interesting and ugly pattern of the upholstery. Of the people in front of them. And then back to his hands. Anywhere but Eugene. 

But that turned pretty impossible when Eugene spoke up again. 

“Some party,” he murmured, taking a sip of his beer. Babe’s eyes had a life of their own as they watched the movement in Eugene’s throat, his fucking perfect throat carved by the Gods themselves. 

Pursing his lips, Babe simply hummed back, refusing to allow his tongue any opportunity to destroy him. 

Eugene tapped a few fingers on his knee, the dark blue denim contrasting spectacularly with his ivory skin. They watched the festivities together. Eugene cleared his throat. “I think I prefer this party to the Dare one, but perhaps it’s been enough of Jimmy B. for one night.” 

Babe is silent. Was this really happening? How could Eugene speak of the horror of the last party so nonchalantly? Without, you know, screaming? 

The tapping on his knee got faster, and a small frown appeared on Eugene’s face. “Haven’t seen ya since that last one.” Horrified, Babe blushed brilliantly, his mind solely stuck on memories. “See more of your roommate Lipton than any of ya, actually.” 

Idly, Babe registered the comment, but can then think of nothing but what he could possibly respond with. Opting for safety, he only hummed again. 

Eugene’s frown hardened slightly. If Babe wasn’t so intune with every miniscule movement the man was making pressed up against his side, he would have missed it. He frowned to himself when he saw it, but then almost cowered in fear again when Eugene turned and his eyes met his own. They were rock hard, icy blue, and beautiful. He ground out, “See ya later then, Edward.” 

And before Babe could stop him, help him go, or even just let the last five minutes sink in - _something_ \- Eugene got up and walked away. 

Feeling as if he just fucked something up again, even without subjecting himself to the worst scenario possible, Frank was back and his contemplation would have to wait. Sinking down on the bench next to Babe, Frank sighed dramatically. Babe nodded in agreement. “Just bumps on a log, Perco. Fuckin’ bumps on a log.”

* * *

Babe’s summer schedule was pretty easy this year. With only one night class beginning this week and ending before the fall semester, he had plenty of time after work at the construction company to actually have a life. Which, you know, mainly consisted of beating himself up over Eugene. 

Although he didn’t see Eugene since the party, he was never far from his thoughts. Hell, he hardly saw anyone besides Bill lately, with George and Joe now seeing one another. Frank, his old standby in the single department, was out almost daily trying to find this girl he obsessed over. And he shuddered to think of the last time he went upstairs to see if Lieb wanted to hang out. The image of Webster bent over the arm of the couch _still_ to this day burned his pupils. 

It wouldn’t be so lonely if Lip was around, but as a full-time TA and a grad student, his schedule even in the summer must be eating him alive. Babe hardly saw him. 

So besides having dinner at Bill and Frannie’s every other day, Babe returned to his old friends - films. 

Trying to forgive them for the pain they unwittingly caused him a month ago, Babe settled onto his couch in his favorite sweats to watch _V for Vendetta_ for the sixtieth time. No one can heal the wounds of the heart like Natalie Portman. No one. 

He was about to crack open another beer from the small cooler by his feet when a strange noise seemed to drift towards him. “What the…” he mumbled, standing up. 

It took Babe several minutes to determine that the sound, a sort of squeaking combined with a rush of air, wasn’t coming from his apartment, but from the apartment next door, the thin walls of the complex to be blamed once again. 

Concerned for a moment that maybe there is a gas leak or mutant mice or the actual apocalypse (not the one Bill tricked Babe into thinking when they were seventeen, zombie ducks and all), or something serious happening in Eugene and Ron’s apartment, Babe quietly listened at the wall for several moments until it happened again. But this time there was no mistaking the sound. 

It was the blatant sound of sex, decidedly someone being fucked good and proper on what sounded to be the springs of a couch or chair, knowing that his living room backed up against theirs. 

Reeling back from the wall as if he was burned by it, Babe reared away and fell back on his own couch. Puffing out of breath, Babe winced when he heard the next sound as it developed a picture in his head. Of Eugene in that apartment. Of Eugene making noises like that. With someone inside of him besides Babe. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, blindly he reached for the remote to turn up the volume of the movie to max. Trying to focus on Natalie and not what was happening next door, Babe chugged the rest of his beer before cracking open another.

* * *

Babe wasn’t sure if it was plain coincidence or a very mean trick by God, but whenever he seemed to be home alone, whether it was _right_ when Babe was trying to fall asleep, during the home stretch of a paper due the next morning in the wee hours of the night before, or even during a quick afternoon nap after work, it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - whenever Babe was home and to himself, Eugene and his mysterious boyfriend would start to fuck. 

The worst part about this situation wasn’t that he wasn’t able to sleep much, or the fact that George and Frank kept rapping on their shared wall for him to turn down the television blasting _Rear Window_ for fuck’s sake. No, the absolute worst part of hearing Eugene on the other side of the wall that his bed was propped against, was that Babe was shamefully getting turned on by the sound. 

Used to his body betraying him (damn pale skin and tendency to blush), Babe realized that this was a new low for him. No, actually the real, bottom-of-the-barrell low was after a sleepless night with blue balls, Babe gave into temptation and jerked himself off to the noises in a last-ditch effort to fall into a post-orgasm nap. Even he was judging himself; he didn’t need Bill for it. 

It was time to get it all out on the table, but he needed another set of ears help him work past this sad crush of his. Without Lipton home to ask and Bill too busy being goddamn happy, Babe turned to the only one that would understand. Hustling his way to the neighboring apartment, Babe knocked on the door.

Rapping again a little more eagerly this time, it flew open violently. Instead of seeing Frank or George, a very disgruntled looking Joe answered instead. Babe winced when he saw that the man’s button down shirt was put back on inside out. 

Joe growled out, “What.” 

Grimacing, Babe sheepishly ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Frank around? I need to talk to him.” 

“No.” 

Shifting on the balls of his feet, Babe heaved a sigh, defeated. “Come on, man. Just tell me where’s Perco. He’s almost as bad as me when it comes to this shit. I need him.” 

George appeared from Joe’s side. “Probably playing creepy mailman again. Waitin’ on that call from prison any day now.” 

Babe would have responded, at least with a thank you, but his jaw dropped a moment when he saw George and then in the next he covered his eyes with a hand. “Christ, Luz! Put some clothes on!” 

George simply grinned as he twirled the tassel of his lace nighty. “What do you think this is? I put on what was previously taken off me.” His grin widened when Joe leaned in to nip at his neck. 

Turning away and occasionally bumping into the wall and then cursing for his bruised joints, Babe hurriedly rushed away from them, hands still firmly planted over his eyes. His poor eyes. 

About to run into the safety of his apartment, he stopped when a token grunt and then groan leaked through the crack under his other neighbor’s door. Face flaming as images of Eugene naked and sweaty plagued him once again, Babe stumbled outside and breathed in deep gulps of air. 

“You OK there, Heffron?” 

His eyes flew open to see Frank standing there, an eyebrow raised on his flushed face. Babe could have kissed him. 

“Don’t go in there, Perc. Trust me.” 

Frank rolled his eyes before sitting down on the stoop of the front steps. “Christ, they’re still at it? I was hopin’ Joe would be gone by now. Or at the very least clothed.” 

Babe sat down next to him. “Nowhere is safe.” 

A slight smile twitched at Frank’s lips. “I dunno about that.” 

Babe gave him a look to continue with the obvious story and Frank flushed again. “I found her, buddy,” he breathed. 

Eyebrows shot up, Babe blinked. “The penguin girl?” 

Frank grinned and nodded. “Turns out her grandma is on my mail route.” He bit his lip, trying to keep in his joy, but it was too hard. “I’m takin’ her out this weekend.” 

Absolutely happy for his friend - _absolutely, no doubt_ \- Babe tried not to grimace when he realized he was now, in fact, the only one left single. He used all that pain to push out a huge smile and he hugged Frank. “That’s awesome, Perco. Really. What’s her name?” 

Frank pulled back from the hug. His smile seemed to be permanently etched on his face. “Evelyn,” he sighed. 

“Evelyn,” Babe repeated, looking towards the road. A beat passed, but in it, Babe made a decision. With a grin he asked, “Think she has a brother?” 

* * *

Babe was stuck. He couldn’t turn back and disappear into the third floor when he knew no one was home, but he couldn’t go down the only stairwell either. Not with Lieb and Webster blocking his way. 

“Aww, come on, Web,” crooned Lieb in his ear. “Don’t be like that.” 

Webster tried to push Lieb away, but his boyfriend held on tight, their hips and sides conjoined. Babe stood helplessly behind them, already regretting that game of Mario Kart at Lieb’s apartment they just finished. No wonder Tipper hardly stayed there. 

“Can you stop kissing my neck for one second!” cried Webster, throwing up his hands. 

Lieb smirked. “Why? Want me to go lower?’ 

Webster grunted and finally was able to break apart from the embrace. “This is what I’m talking about, Liebgott!” Huffing, he walked quickly ahead of them, downstairs to the party at Frank and George’s. Lieb glanced up at Babe before snorting to himself. 

Babe asked before he could stop himself. “You two OK?” Lieb didn’t reply, only snorted again. Babe’s mouth continued on its own. “Not that you guys don’t fight, you do. It’s sort of your shtick. But never for long, and never after you’ve kissed.” 

Lieb stopped completely and turned silently to face Babe with eyebrows almost disappearing into his hair. 

Babe panicked. “Not like I watch you guys! I don’t! Promise.” He sighed running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just jealous of what you have.” 

Lieb’s hard stare softened slightly. Wrangling an arm around Babe’s shoulders, they continued to slowly walk down the flight of stairs. “Tell ya what, Heff, I’ve got just the guy for ya. New art teacher at school. Met him at summer session. Want me to set somethin’ up?” 

A grin twitched at Babe’s lips. “Is this your way of not talkin’ about your fight with Web?” 

Lieb frowned slightly. “He thinks I’m usin’ him for sex.” 

“Well, are you?” 

They stopped in the first floor hallway, the sounds of the party already rolling nearby. The frown deepened. “No.” His eyes flew up to Babe. “Hell no. Why does he think that?” 

Babe shrugged. “He’s a sensitive guy. He’ll come around.” 

Lieb was silent for a moment, before he repeated his question. “Want me to set somethin’ up with that art teacher?” 

It was Babe’s turn to think for a moment, deciding his next move. He gave a small nod. “Yeah. Yeah, if you don’t mind.” 

Walking together again, they entered the party, falling right into an apparent argument between George and Webster. 

“But how can there be no theme?” whined Webster, still in shock over the lack of decorations. 

George sighed in annoyance before pulling out his phone. “August 7...August 7…ha!” He shoved the screen of the phone in Webster’s face. “There ya go, Web. There’s a theme. It’s National Friendship Day today. Thanks for being a bud.” He pocketed his phone before waving him away, motioning to Lieb behind him. “Now skedaddle, but no sex in my room. You can climb the two fucking flights of stairs for once.” 

Freezing, Webster paused in his tirade to glance at Babe and Lieb in the doorway before stalking off alone. Lieb gave Babe a look, who shrugged again. “Eventually. He’ll come around eventually.” 

Neither man could focus on Webster next as Frank just showed up to his own party, beaming. Babe smiled when he saw the girl next to him, fingers interlocked. Seeing him, Frank made his way over to them. 

“Babe, Lieb,” he said breathlessly. “This is Evelyn.” 

Babe shook her hand, before moving onto Lieb. Surprisingly, because for some reason he always pictured Frank with a quiet, traditional sort of girl that his Italian Catholic grandma would love, a mischievous glint entered her eyes and she smiled crookedly. “Frank didn’t mention how handsome his friends were.” 

While Babe blushed and Lieb chuckled, Frank nudged Evelyn good naturedly. “Did I also forget to mention that most of them are gay? Because both of these jackasses are.” 

Evelyn only grinned wider and turned to look at him. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep my ovaries in my pants and settle for you instead, Perconte.” 

Babe was astonished at the casual bantering and teasing that the pair already had together, even after only a few dates. He hoped the jealousy wasn’t blatant on his face. Instead, he focused on his smile. “You get used to Perco.” 

Lieb shrugged. “Yeah, he’s alright.” 

Frank scoffed, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Thanks guys.” 

After more small talk, Babe made his way deeper into the party, looking for a drink. As he wiggled his way through the crowd, he happened upon George and Joe along the way. The latter seemed to be of Babe’s mindset. 

Joe took George’s solo cup in his hand. “Another pisswater Mich Ultra for you, Georgie?” 

George grinned. “If you don’t mind.” When Joe kissed his cheek, the smaller man beamed and rocked on his feet back and forth. 

Joe caught Babe’s eye. “Do you want a beer, Heffron? I hid some IPAs in the fridge if that’s more your style.” 

Babe grinned, touched a bit that the big, bad man was being so sweet. Maybe he could see what George saw in him after all. “That would be great, thanks Toye.” 

As soon as Joe left, George talked Babe’s ear off at lightening speed, about the party, the people, Joe, the weather, everything. As he was used to it, Babe’s mind strayed a bit, especially when his eyes caught Eugene from across the room, sitting on the couch by himself. 

As soon as the bottle of beer touched Babe’s hand, he cut George off with another thanks to Joe, and made his way over, his feet moving on their own accord. Eugene looked up at him, and Babe motioned to the cushion next to him. “That seat taken?” 

Slowly, Eugene shook his head and Babe bit the bullet, sitting down next to him, but with a proper distance. Seeing this as the ultimate test, he didn’t need Eugene’s leg pressed up against his own again. 

“Some party, huh?” 

Eugene nodded politely. “Not bad, though I miss the theme.” 

“Don’t think there is one this time.” 

“Too bad.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence stretched among them for what felt like hours. Babe was trying his absolute best not to open his mouth and fill the gap, but he couldn’t help but notice the growing scowl on Eugene’s face. 

OK, it was time for the last step in small talk. The absolute most horrid topic that Babe never wanted to broach with Eugene, but if he was going to move on, it was necessary. Maybe hearing Eugene’s love for the guy would help him be happy for them both. “Are you here with your boyfriend?” 

The silence seemed to boom for a moment. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Blinking a few times, Babe met Eugene’s gaze. The medical student shrugged. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he repeated. 

Holding up his hands in apology, Babe blurted out. “Sorry! Girlfriend.” 

“No girlfriend either.” 

Babe opened and closed his mouth a few times before adding, “Sex buddy?” 

Eugene raised one eyebrow and couldn’t help but chuckle. “None of the above.” He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I hardly have any time outside the hospital, and even if I did, I’ve been avoiding my apartment.” He paused. “My roommate is dating someone new and it’s been a tad…” 

It was as if the smoke cleared. Babe saw the light. “Loud?” 

Eugene laughed and Babe decided it was the absolute best sound he’d ever heard, especially regarding the topic. “That’s an understatement. I don’t know why they don’t take it to the other guy’s place sometimes, but I got these noise-canceling headphones that are working OK.” 

Once again, Babe was speechless, but with relief and happiness, even though he was supposed to be getting over Eugene and looking forward to a potential blind date in the works. He chose to ignore that fact for the moment. 

Eugene looked over at Babe, who was silent still. At first looking frustrated at the lack of response, Eugene only laughed again when he took in Babe’s beaming face. “What?” 

Babe’s jaw ached from smiling. “Nothin’,” he replied, getting more comfortable. “Nothin’ at all.” 

Eugene snorted and turned away. “Watch the party, Heffron.” 

* * *

The blind date that Lieb got into the works wasn’t half bad. Babe actually liked the guy. Nice sense of humor. Great Smile. He’s a fucking _teacher of tiny humans_ , which is on par with doctor any day of the week, for Christ’s sake. 

They had a nice dinner out, both looking dapper in dark jeans and button ups. Babe got a nice view of the guy’s (Dylan) ass when he bent down to tie his shoelace, and that was definitely up to speed in the _awesome_ category. Babe was excited when he saw Dylan for the first time and took in his longish dirty blonde hair, vivid green eyes, and stocky build. He was any guy’s wet dream. 

But as dinner went on, Babe couldn’t help but compare the color of Dylan’s eyes to Eugene. And the fact that Dylan might be a bit too beefy to be able to cuddle with properly. Or the very obvious midwest accent that didn’t get more beautiful over time, but just became a bit too distracting. 

When they parted, they hugged, and Babe promised to text him, and he meant it. Dylan was too good of a catch to daydream about unattainable men. 

Babe was doing great. Really great. He was sleeping again (now that he knew it was Ron’s noisy sex life). He didn’t pester his friends all day about his sad crush (that’s because he no longer had a crush, thank you). And he had a second date with Dylan this weekend, which was perfect, since he didn’t really want to go to the next George and Frank party. Just wasn’t his scene anymore. 

With a pep in his step, Babe closed his front door and locked it with a whistle on his lips. Turning to go to study on campus before his first class of the semester, he almost jumped out of his skin when Eugene breathed his name from the shadows of the awning outside. 

Eugene stepped out into the sun, sucking on a cigarette. Babe’s eyes instantly locked on his hollowed out cheeks and he swallowed hard, all of his former confidence flying away. 

“Christ, doc, aren’t you the one that tells other people not to smoke?” 

Eugene smiles slightly, but doesn’t answer right away. With his eyes unwavering from Babe’s own, Eugene sucked in another lungful of smoke before slowly blowing it out again, the smile growing into a smirk. “I don’t do it often, but, yes, I’m a hypocrite, I know.” 

Babe watched as he dropped the cigarette and slowly crushed it with the toe of his boot. Swallowing hard again, he tried to remember where he was supposed to be. “Uh, I’m headed off to school.” He motioned with a thumb behind him. His eyes widened when he realized Eugene was slowly making his way to him. “First class.” A long pause. “Bio.” Another long pause as Eugene remained silent, the smirk still in place. Babe did what he did best: he babbled. 

“I know, forced to take Bio even though I’m a History concentration. Who the fuck came up with that?” 

“Not that Bio isn’t good! Bio is _great_. So fuckin’ great. All doctors have to take Bio some time or another, right? Maybe even several times.” 

“Not like in several times because you failed, but as in several levels of Biology, and all of its...wonder.” 

“Hey, have you ever wondered about math? Like math is the same across the globe, perhaps the universe, and then Common Core comes around and, like, changes shit. How can you change _math_?” 

Babe knew he had to stop, and biting his lip hard seemed to be all that could shut him up, but even then it was a struggle. Eugene was still looking hungry for a meal, and Babe was ready to serve himself up, even if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. _Must be horny from all sex you overhear._  

“Must be horny from all the sex you overhear.” 

Both men froze and Babe felt his jaw drop to the floor a moment before his face seared hotter than lava. “What I meant to say was…” 

“Jesus, finally.” 

Babe froze again and snuck a glance at Eugene. The man looked amused and - was he reading it properly? - relieved. “Finally…?” Babe drew out. 

A smile played at Eugene’s lips a moment before he stepped closer to Babe, crowding into his space. Babe leaned back against the guardrail, but the metal didn’t seem to want to budge. Seeing it, Eugene smiled wider. “Yeah, Edward, finally. I’ve missed your nonsensical babbling.” 

Babe blinked a few times, trying to understand. “You’ve missed my…” Nothing. 

Eugene nodded thoughtfully, catching Babe’s shirtsleeve and playing with the cuff. Babe was pretty sure he was close to a heart attack every time his finger brushed the skin of his wrist. “Babbling. It’s cute. And it makes me think you like me, which is somethin’ I wanted to talk to you about.” 

He tried to swallow, really he did, but Babe’s reflexes weren’t working any longer. They were on the curb with his brain. “Cu-ute?” he stuttered. “Um, talk?” 

Eugene nodded again, his eyes never leaving his. Babe was positive his favorite color has always been Eugene’s eyes, especially when they darkened to _that_ shade like they are now. “I mean, I could live without eva talkin’ about ‘Two Girls and a Cup’ again, but other than that, I like it.” He paused, emphasizing the next sentence. “I like you.” 

Babe’s eyelashes fluttered. He was pretty sure he was stuck someplace between needing to be sick and crushing Eugene to his chest. “You. Like _me_?” 

Eugene cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so hard to believe? You’re somethin’ else, Babe.” 

It took several more long moments before a gigantic smile broke across Babe’s face and he snagged Eugene’s hand that was still playing with his shirt cuff into his own. “I believe I’m dreamin’.” 

Breathing out a laugh, Eugene shook his head this time before meeting his eyes once again. “I was wonderin’ if you’d like to go to the party with me on Saturday. It’s National Cheese Pizza Day, after all. What do ya say?” 

Babe was pretty sure his heart would never beat correctly again. “I’d love to go with you.” And sucking in all of his confidence into his belly, he gently tugged on Eugene’s hand until the man was resting against him. Reading his eyes once more before bending his head, Babe brushed his lips against Eugene’s, and he swore the fucking earth exploded when their mouths touched. Pulling back, Babe beamed when he saw Eugene almost as affected as he was. “But what do you say to a coffee right now?” 

Eugene rolled his eyes, but not backing away from Babe. “Heffron, you can’t miss the first class.” 

Babe only grinned back and pulled Eugene in for another kiss. “It’s Bio for Christ’s sake. I’m OK right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That leaves Lieb and Web!


	4. Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Webster get too fed up? Or will Lieb read into the drama and figure out what they both want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter on Webster and Lieb's tumultuous relationship.

Lieb thumped his fist against the floor one more time. “Christ! Keep it down!”

Rolling his eyes, he pulled back to lie back in bed. Webster, oblivious to the animal sex noises from below them, kept reading Oscar Wilde. Scooting closer, Lieb ran a hand up his thigh, just realizing that whomever was getting it on downstairs was turning him onto getting his boyfriend to reenact those noises for him. “Hey Web.”

“Hmm?”

“Put the book down.”

Webster turned the page, ignoring his request. “You know I have a paper due.”

Lieb sighed before trying again. He ran his fingers through Webster’s thick curls at the nape of his neck. “When do you  _ not _ have a paper due?” His boyfriend didn’t reply. Subjecting himself to drastic measures, Lieb began to inch the duvet down Webster’s hips.

When he realized that nothing covered his lower half besides his boxers, Webster sighed. “You’re distracting me.”

Lieb threw him a wink as he inched closer to Webster’s hips, slowly sliding the elastic waist down. He purred, kissing the sensitive spot on Webster’s hipbone, “Exactly what I was goin’ for.”

Webster sighed in a huff. “Joe -” But he was cut off when Lieb began to kiss his cock.

“Relax,  _ liebling _ . I’ll take care of ya.”

And before Webster could protest further (he was always a sucker for when his boyfriend called him that and the fucker knew it), Lieb swallowed him whole.

* * *

Webster laid curled on his side in bed, only a sheet covering his bare lower half. He watched silently as Lieb wrapped a towel around his waist. Catching his eye, Lieb smirked before leaning across the mattress to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Quickest shower known to mankind. Promise. Then breakfast.” And with that, he opened his bedroom door before closing it again behind him.

Webster sighed, watching him go. He tried to stay mad at his boyfriend. He really did. At the August party the night before, he promised himself that he’d put his foot down this time. That he’d make Lieb understand that he couldn’t stay stagnant with someone anymore. 

But then Lieb was Lieb. All sweet and purring at just the right moment after Webster had a few too many beers. Strong hands gliding across just the right places. Whispered words of promise in his ear of what would happen if he followed him upstairs to the bedroom. Webster was weak; and he knew it.

Rolling onto his back, Webster sighed again dramatically. It wasn’t exactly all Lieb’s fault. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted. Putting it into words that made sense was almost impossible. But inside was this ever present need to feel completely secure, and if he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t there 100%. Not with Lieb looking like he did and eyes from both sexes following him on the street.

A soft ping alerted Webster to a message, but after checking his phone, he realized it didn’t come for him. Seeing the popup text message on Lieb’s cell screen, his stomach dropped at the first line of words that were seen:

Someone named Dylan had said: “A date? I’d love to. Send me the details.”

In his heart, he trusted Lieb. Truly he did. But also deep inside was that self doubt. He always thought Lieb was out of his league. The man oozed sexuality and confidence, something Webster had always lacked when it came to romance or picking up a guy. Bookish and nosy, he was shocked when Lieb first asked him out two years ago. In some ways, he was still in awe that his boyfriend continued to date him.

Tossing aside the phone so that it was out of his arm’s reach and accessible to him, Webster threw a pillow over his head and grunted out his frustration.

* * *

“Web? Are ya listenin’ to me?”

“Huh?” Webster’s eyes flew to Lieb, who was looking at him expectedly with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Lieb snorted, but continued to stir the marinara sauce with the cooked pasta until it was covered. Pouring it into two bowls, he moved onto shredding some cheese over both. “I said, Tipper is movin’ out at the end of next month. Somethin’ about movin’ closer to some chick.”

Webster uncorked a bottle of red wine. “Samantha. Yeah, he mentioned that things were serious. He says she's the one.”  _ Lucky bastard _ .

Lieb nodded, carrying their dinner to the small table in the kitchen, just big enough for the both of them. “Yeah, he seems pretty attached.” Webster rolled his eyes at that.

They sat in silence for awhile as they ate, Webster reading the history of the vineyard on the back of the bottle, Lieb studying the pasta.

“Guess that means I’ve got the place to myself soon enough.”

Webster hummed under his breath. “Until you find a new roommate.” He briefly wondered how anyone could be as patient and understanding as Eddie Tipper when it came to dealing with them and their weird relationship. And then he wondered how long it would be until the new roomie kicked him out.

Webster didn’t feel Lieb’s eyes on him. The other man hummed back after a moment. “Yeah. Until I find a new roommate.”

* * *

“Christ, no meatball?’

“It’s national cheese pizza day, Bill!” Frannie admonished, taking a slice for herself. Bill continued to gape at the lack of toppings on all dozen pies in the kitchen. Leaving him to battle it out with the hosts himself, she made her way into the party, bopping her head to the beat of the music.

“You got some pizza, Fran?” shouted George over the noise. She raised her slice in the air. “Thatta girl!”

Grinning, Frannie stopped at Lieb’s side, who was staring into the backyard quietly, hands in his pockets. She bumped her hip into his and smiled at him. “Jesus, that scowl, Joe! It’s a party, not a funeral.”

Lieb gave her a side grin before looking back outside. She followed his eyes and wasn’t surprised to see Webster outside with Babe and Eugene, the pair not having broken contact since they arrived hand in hand. Eugene was currently ghosting a protective hand on Babe’s lower back as the younger man chatted away with Webster. But both Lieb and Frannie could tell he was very aware of Eugene’s touch by the way his face flushed.

Frannie took a bite of pizza and swallowed before asking, “Any luck in the roommate search?”

Lieb didn’t look at her, only shrugged. “Nah.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re trying too hard.” Bill came up to her side and handed her a beer. With a kiss on his cheek in thanks, she continued questioning Lieb. Her mother always did call her persistent. “Maybe you should put some flyers on campus, especially now that classes have begun again.”

Lieb only shrugged again and remained silent.

“What does David think?”

The question didn’t even garner a shrug this time. Glancing at Bill, the pair silently agreed - Lieb and Webster were a fucking trainwreck of miscommunication. Frannie only hoped that when the shit hit the fan, it ended well for both of her friends.

* * *

Webster knew Lieb was watching him, but he wasn’t going allow his boyfriend to seduce him into the bedroom this time. He was sick and tired of being known as the couple that only fucks. If he was being honest with himself, he was sick and tired of loving Lieb more than he loves him.

Instead, he focused on the story Babe was telling him of Eugene asking him out, probably sans a few initimate details, but this was Babe - he might blurt out some juicy nuggets by mistake. He waited patiently.

Eugene took Babe’s empty cup into his hand. “I’ll grab us another round.” He turned to Webster. “Would you like one too, Webster?”

Smiling, he nodded and thanked the med student, handing over his cup. Together, Webster and Babe watched Eugene walk back into the house. Whistling low to himself as Babe stared at Eugene’s perfect ass in the black skinny jeans, he sighed. “Jesus Christ, I have no idea how I got so lucky.”

Webster had to smile. After all that Babe went through, pining after the man, it was nice to see him so happy. “He’s a great guy. I’m glad you two got together finally.”

Turning to face Webster, Babe grinned. “Yeah, finally. And to think I gave up on Gene. I was even dating someone else for a bit.”

Webster’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? How did he take it when you broke it off?”

Babe shrugged, but looked a little ashamed. “He was great. I felt terrible - he was so nice about it. But Lieb thinks he might be interested in a teacher in the next school district over from his. I hope it works out.”

Now Webster was really confused. “What does Joe have to do with it?”

Babe gave him a weird look. “Lieb was the one to set me up with Dylan in the first place. Offered to exchange numbers after meeting the guy at a summer planning meeting or something. Still owe him one, even though it didn’t work out. A Heffron always pays his debts, afterall.”

"Game of Thrones party was almost a year ago, Heff!" yelled Luz overhearing the tailend as he and Frank moved the beer pong table outside. The party house had reached max capacity. He motioned his thumb over to his roommate and grinned at Evelyn. "Ask Frankie what his costume was, Ev."

With Frank scowling, Webster glanced into the house to find Lieb’s eyes still on him, even as he was speaking to Eugene. He gave his boyfriend a small smile, which, after a moment, he returned with a wink.

He flushed before turning back to Babe, but not before the smile crept back onto his lips. God, he was so weak.

* * *

Eugene followed Lieb’s eyes outside, trying and failing for a moment not to take Babe in; the man was just too adorable not to study. But he moved on to Webster, whom Lieb was obviously watching.

After a long silence, Eugene quietly turned to Lieb, who met his eyes. His face was soft, but there was a hard, exasperated look in the man’s eyes. Lieb was a little taken back. And he wasn't taken aback by many people.

Eugene cocked an eyebrow. “Ask him to move in with you already or I’ll sic my roommate on ya.”

Having only encountered the man once before (What was he? A scary night owl that only lurked when everyone was fast asleep?), Lieb shuddered a moment in memory of the only time he met Ron Speirs. To this day, he still never spoke of the details. But it faded when he paused to think about what Eugene said. Turning back to the pair outside, he was pleased to see Webster meet his eyes and give him a grin. A smile twitched on his lips. “Ever think of usin’ that medical degree and becomin’ a shrink, doc?”

Eugene rewarded him with a slow smile back. “Livin’ in this apartment complex alone has too much crazy in it. Don’t need it at work too.”

“Damn shame, because you hit the nail on the head. But I think I got you one better.”

* * *

It was the same argument, over and over again. Well, Webster was arguing, but mostly with himself. Lieb was busy watching him with that sardonic look on his face that both infuriated him and made him want to kiss it away.

What he didn’t know was that Lieb was waiting patiently for the right moment before he pounced.

Webster ran a hand through his hair in agitation, not getting anywhere with his boyfriend. After the cheese pizza party, he tried to remain hopeful that they could be more than sex, more than what they’ve been for the last two years, but Lieb didn’t reply. He never replied except with his tongue in his ear. “It’s not like I’m asking for us to get married or anything.”

“Is that what you want?” Lieb asked him, a lazy grin on his face.

Webster gave him a look. “What?”

“Married,” he replied as if it was obvious. Webster froze and Lieb’s grin widened. “You wanna get married?”

Webster recovered enough to snort. “As if you’d take anything like this seriously.”

Lieb shifted closer to him until he could cup his face in his hands. When Webster met his eyes, his smile softened. “Web, I’d marry you. Hell, I’ll propose now if it makes you flush like that every day. I’ve only been tryin’ to figure out a way to get you to move in with me for weeks, but Jesus, let’s just go nuts and get hitched.”

Webster opened and closed his mouth a few times before stuttering, “You’re not serious.”

In a flash, Lieb rolled off the bed. After digging around in his drawer for a moment, he turned back to Webster only to immediately straddle his hips and hold up a tarnished gold ring. “My ma gave this to me back when I was young and she thought I was straight. It was my opa’s wedding ring.”

Lieb leaned down until his body was flushed against Webster’s and he grabbed his right hand. He teased the ring over each fingertip, moving from digit to digit slowly, his eyes focused on the task. “He fought in the Airborne during WW2 and he never took it off. He always told my ma that it’s what held him together, knowing my oma was waiting for him, the love of his life.”

When he was done with the right hand, he gently picked up Webster’s left hand and played the ring over his thumb first. “Ma said she wanted me to wear it when I met the girl I’d marry.” Lieb snorted as he moved to the index finger next. “After I came out and after she cried out all her anguish of never gettin’ grandbabies from me, she sat me down.” He moved to the middle finger. “She told me that when my oma gave my opa this ring, he saw it as a symbol of her love.”

Lieb moved the ring to the next finger and he dragged his eyes to meet Webster, who remained silent and barely breathing. “She said that I gotta share the ring to the man I wanted to be with me for all of my days. The love of my goddamn life.” He teased the gold along the first knuckle and grinned, but Webster could see the nerves behind it. “So whaddya say, Web?” He swallowed hard. “Will you marry this asshole or what?”

Webster’s mouth was hanging open and he blinked several times in awe before finally snapping out of it. His face broke into a huge grin that he struggled to keep off his face. “Well, I guess. God knows there aren’t really eligible bachelors left in…”

After slipping the ring on his finger, Lieb immediately kissed Webster hard. Knocking their teeth together when they laughed against their lips, they alternating between breathless giggles and long, drawn out caresses.

Once Webster demonstrated how thrilled he was (because they were the couple that always had sex - he had to keep up their high standards, now didn't he?), they laid together in a sweaty heap, Lieb’s head cradled on his chest, Webster’s fingers running through his damp hair. “It seems I need to go shopping.”

Lieb hummed his question in drowsiness. Webster grinned. “Not everyone has incredibly romantic heirlooms to give to their betrothed. I need to go find you a ring.”

Lieb snorted. “I don’t need nothin’. Save your money.”

Webster snorted back. “And let you flirt around without one? I don’t think so. Do you like yellow gold or white?”

“Web, if I put a twist tie on, will that make ya happy?”

“Let me get you something. This is going to be a long engagement, mister. These things don’t happen overnight.”

“Dazzle me when we get hitched. Even if it takes you twenty years to choose a cake.”

“How about any stones? Maybe a handsome smokey quartz setting?”

“Jesus Christ.”

 


	5. Epilogue

“Christ, watch the elbow, Perco.”

“I’m sorry, but can’t we find another bar that actually fits all of us for once?”

“And give up Easy Street? Blasphemy.”

The entirety of Toccoa Towers inhabitants (minus Dike, thank God), but plus their significant others and then some, were crammed into the largest table the bar could provide, and any orphan chairs that could be acquired without much force from other patrons. But one scowl from Joe Toye, and everyone could at least sit, albeit a bit uncomfortably. 

Settling back down in his chair after grabbing one for Malarkey, Joe slung an arm around George’s shoulders. The bright smile that the simple action caused his boyfriend almost made Joe flush with pleasure - almost.

Turning back to the crowd, George caught Frank’s eye, who was similarly sitting with Evelyn across from them. Exchanging a wink and a grin, they tuned back in to Bill.

“All I’m sayin’ is if it’s a public space, think of the goddamn public,” he cried.

Babe snorted, his fingers twisted with Eugene’s under the table. “As if I didn’t walk in on your and Fran enough times.”

Frannie simply shrugged and grinned, but Bill continued to argue. “Only when we first got together. We’ve been real saints to ya for years, Heffron.”

“Your argument makes no sense, Guarno,” added in Lieb. “These guys are all brand, spankin’ new. Give them some credit.”

Bill scowled at Lieb and Webster. “Don’t even get me started on you two. I’ve seen Web’s bare ass more times than I can count.”

Blushing brilliantly, it took a moment before Webster joined into the laughter, smiling wide when Lieb snuck in a quick kiss on his neck. “You’re welcome, Bill.”

“All I’m sayin’ is would it kill any of ya to wear some clothes once and awhile? I’ve seen more than my fair share, believe me. Of  _ everyone _ .”

“And what about me, Guarnere?”

The conversation halted abruptly and everyone turned their eyes to look at Ron Speirs standing by the gathering. Cocking an eyebrow at the silence, Speirs didn’t miss a beat as he stared down Bill and simultaneously produced two chairs from thin air for him and Lipton who walked up next.

“Hey guys,” said Lipton, smiling.

George broke the silence first as the two newcomers sat down. “It’s been forever, Lip. We’ve missed ya.” Darting his eyes to the man beside him, whom George had never actually met before, he added, “Thanks for joinin’ us. I’m George.”

“Ron.” With a nudge from Lipton, Speirs rolled his eyes impatiently before grunting out, “Speirs. Ron Speirs. Thanks for all the party invites, but I’ve been a little busy.” His expression, although still dangerously and carefully blank, warmed slightly when he glanced at Lipton. “We’ve been busy.”

The dots connected faster for some than others. Bill and Eugene didn’t look surprised, although then again Bill never did answer Speirs’ question and it was hard for Eugene to miss the couple when they so often frequented his apartment. Pairs of eyes around the table became huge with understanding. Lieb’s smile was wide and devilish. He knocked Lipton with his elbow. “Lip, you dog.”

George seemed to find his voice next. “But...Lip, you ain’t gay.”

Moans of disbelief at the question reverberated around the table. Frank kicked his roommate under the table. But Lipton only smiled kindly. “I never really said, actually. I’m just not...straight.”

Frannie recovered first and got up to hug Lipton and then shyly introduce herself to Speirs. No one noticed the low moan coming from the other end of the table, but it soon became louder and apparent of where it was coming from.

Babe had his head on the table and in his hands, Eugene rubbing a soothing hand on his back. Babe moaned again, digging his palms into his eyes as he muttered, “No, no, no.”

Eugene grimaced, trying to calm down Babe. He glanced at the others. “Babe mighta…” A cough. “...mighta heard through the walls Ron and Lipton’s budding relationship.”

“Yeah, no shit,” drawled Lieb. “Welcome to the club.” Speirs didn’t react at all; Lipton was blushing enough for him.

Another low moan from Babe, and Eugene scrunched up his nose, trying not to laugh at his boyfriend. He knew this day would happen eventually. “Yeah, but your bedroom ain’t up against his. And well, Heffron mighta thought it was me on the other side, you know before we got together. And well…”

Speirs spoke for the first time since he arrived, his eyes trained on Babe. “You got off on hearing us?” His voice was deadly.

Babe popped up immediately, hearing it. “I didn’t know!” He turned to Lipton, whose face was searing. “Christ, Lip, if I’d known it was you, I’d never - Christ,  _ never  _ …”

Speirs folded his arms across his chest. "Are you trying to say there is something wrong with my boyfriend?"

Lipton poked Speirs again to stop the interrogation before laughing and turning back to Babe. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with you over the last several months. It’s my fault, really.”

Seeing his buddy still mortified, Bill slapped his hands together in an attempt to change the subject. No one wanted to clean up melted Babe from the floor. “So that’s that, right? You all promise to keep you clothes on in public places, and I don’t need to kill ya.” Speirs snorted. “Any of ya.”

Smirking to herself, Frannie stood for a moment before leaning down to whisper in Bill’s ear. The gang had a good guess of what she probably said, because he perked up before she sashayed her way to the back hallway leading towards the bathrooms. Gulping, Bill stood up erratically and muttered out a quick, “‘scuse me,” and followed her closely from behind, only pausing to flip George the bird when he yelled out “hypocrite!”

Laughing together, the rest of the group fell back into their comfortable stances within their couples, eagerly talking about the next party in October and what could be in store for them next.


End file.
